Leaving Behind the Night
by caputdraconis14
Summary: It started off as little more than a plan in the back of Godric's mind, and became the world's best magic school. Creating it wasn't easy... nor was the impending romance. Founders Era, RR/GG and SS/HH
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Enchantress

The misty air slinked in from the north, following the breaths of ghostly wind that sucked it downward. It drew itself like a blanket tight around them all, wrapping them up to their necks in an eerie chill. From the top window of the house on the edge of the forest, a single lamp glimmered. It was a faint flicker in the darkness. As the cloaked figure approached, the bulb at the top grew larger and broader, illuminating the entirety of the window. The figure inside the frame was bent over a table, framed as a feminine silouhette, of a moderately young woman, with ebony hair let loose in curls that flew down her back. Had the man on the horse not been gifted with uncommonly keen eyesight, he would not see her remarkably pale skin, or the boniness of her body.

His approach was slow, but graceful. He was proceeding with caution, more worried than he probably should've been. The Scottish chill from the cliffs was permeating his traveling cloak, definitely a feat of extreme proportions. He was used to the moderate climate of inland England.

Just as he approached the door, the lamp went out upstairs and with a loud crack that split the encroaching evening silence, the figure of the young woman was standing in front of him, her thin and very long dark wand held aloft.

"Who are you?" she whispered, her voice carrying through the thick silence as if she had shouted at him.

The traveler's smile was visible beneath even his shrouding hood. He knocked it back and the young woman in front of him—young classifying her as very little below his own age—continued the stern gaze with her brilliant blue eyes.

"Who are you?" she repeated, taking a step closer.

"You are forward with your magic, madam," he whispered, swinging a leg off of his mahogany horse. His ginger hair was suddenly illuminated by his own wand tip.

"I am not a madam," she hissed. "I am a madamoiselle."

"But you were married once," he said.

"Who _are _you?" she demanded, starting to swing her wand threw the air. Suddenly a slice occurred in thin air and the ground beneath the man split like a fault line. With a flick of his wand it sealed itself again.

"Godric Gryffindor, Miss Ravenclaw," he murmured, offering a cordial gloved hand.

She took it by naught but the fingertips as if she was worried about it dirtying her if she held too much for too long. He brushed his lips in a quick kiss over the soft fair skin.

"Gryffindor, you say?" she said. "Well it only took you so long… Do come in, sir, come on."

He followed her through the door of her house, and noticed that even she, in all her narrow height, had to duck her raven head to fit through the door.

"Please keep it down," she said, flicking her wand toward the stairway and the other room as she led the way into the kitchen. "My sister and her husband sleep in the next room, and my daughter upstairs."

"Daughter m'lady?" he said, his eyebrows shooting up.

"A past life, sir," she whispered, ducking into the kitchen. With a wave of her wand, light flooded from the candles and illuminated the small kitchen. Godric smiled to himself, and the word "quaint" flitted through his head—and not meant as a compliment. She was very quick to produce with her wand, bread, soup and cheese, as well as a pad of fresh butter.

"Please sit," she said, choosing to lean against the counter inside. From her bodice she produced a thin piece of paper, which was marked on the back with the rampant lion that was Godric's crest. He knew it to be the letter he had sent in three directions.

"'Mistress Rowena Ravenclaw," she murmured, reciting what he'd written. "My name is Godric Gryffindor and I do crave a word with you. I will come in fortnight, by naught the usual way. I am travelling and request your acceptance of our meeting. Please send word with this owl if this will inconvenience you.' Now, Gryffindor, what sort of word do crave with me, you a wizard, that will induce your travelling by horse."

"I heard word of the Ravenclaw maid that lived in the Scottish glen, a more talented witch than has been seen in many years. A very beautiful spell caster. They call her the witch, I heard, an enchantress, who snared the nearby lord and later led him to his death."

"I snared no one," she spat, sparks emitting from the wand she still clutched as his side. "Sir, you see, I did grow up quite humbly, and money has always been my first concern. You see, I have magic, my family does not, and most do not understand it. The man was besotted and I would not refuse. He was a true lord, a good man, whose death was naught but an unpleasant and unfortunate accident."

He nodded slowly, as she produced quickly a mug of ale which materialized in front of him.

"But please continue," she implored. "What is it you seek from me?"

"I seek your mind, miss," he said. "And nothing more that your abundant knowledge to assist me in my quest. I have two more friends you see, already agreed. Helga Hufflepuff, from the Welsh valleys and Salazar Slytherin from Norfolk. What say you madameiselle, will you aid me?"

"I still do not understand what you seek," she said, sitting in the chair opposite him and pulling the slab of cheese toward her.

"You see, I got it in my head that a school is what Britain needs," he said. "A school for the magic children so they can become all that they have the potential to be. A place where no one can frown upon them for what they do, and no muggles question it. I want a place where the four of us can teach them. The four witches and wizards whose name are spoken with reverence throughout the land—the world. I am unsure if you are aware, that you are regarded as one of the brightest and most talented witches to ever have walked this earth, Miss Ravenclaw."

Rowena glared at him. "I cannot help you."

"Why not?" he demanded as a shrill wail of a baby.

"Because I have a daughter!" she replied, standing swiftly and disappearing up the stairs. Godric heaved a sigh, taking a hefty swig from his tankard in front of him. He frowned, trying to get through his travel-groggy brain and work this to his advantage. The other two had been easy. Helga Hufflepuff was young an innocent, and already an acquaintance. She was eager to aid him, to join him in his plans. She two had been eager to create a school for a long time, ever since her own education was very limited from an old wizard in her small home village. Salazar had been his friend for such a long time, as they met at a young age. The two of them used to duel for fun. That had been another easy one. Salazar had been more than willing to get out of his small home and move on. The three of them together decided that one more would make the number round. That and the knowledge of the powers of Rowena Ravenclaw to be so extreme… well it only made sense to draw her into the plan.

Helga knew enough about Rowena from the beginning. Word traveled quickly, and Helga was a happy gossip. Rowena Ravenclaw was just as young as she, and a fantastic talent. She was told about the wedding of Rowena and how the lord had died quickly, and the young widow refused to retain his name. In all of it, however, Helga failed to come across the bit of information regarding the child.

Footsteps on the stairs alerted him to the beauty's return. Her dress swished on the stairs, and she held it up as she stepped down, giving Godric a brief glimpse of her ankles. He sighed deeply again, knowing that this was going to be very hard.

"You don't understand," he told her when she approached. "We need you."

She shot him a baleful glare and plopped her thin body back into the chair opposite him. With a flick, there was another tankard in front of her.

"You could need me to live and I could not help you," she replied tartly. "Do you think a school is any place for a child? I don't even know if she will have any ability… she's only half blood after all… I can't very well expose her to all of that, just to get her hurt if it doesn't work out. Don't you understand…"

"Did you want a daughter?" he questioned.

She pursed her lips. "Whether I _wanted _one or not isn't the problem. The problem is that I have one and therefore cannot help you."

"You didn't want her," he concluded.

She sighed again. "What difference does it make? She's my daughter and I love her!"

"Which is better?" he wondered. "Your daughter having a mother she can be proud of, or a mother that sat meekly away and used magic for nothing but drawing ale out of thin air?"

She looked at him. "I would come in a heartbeat if she wasn't up there. I swear to you I would. She's what holds me back. I promise you that. It is an honor that you've requested me, Gryffindor, it is. But I cannot accept you proposal. If you want even numbers, you'll have to ask someone else."

He slammed his tankard down with vexing force. He fixed her with this emerald green eyes and sneered for a moment.

"There isn't anyone else," he said slowly, his voice dropping back into his usual whisper.

"Then you'll have to have three," she declared, taking another piece of bread and vanishing the rest of the spread with a wave of her wand—just as he was reaching for more too…

"We can't have three!" he said.

'Well I'm sorry!" she said. "There is no one then. If there's no one but me, there's no one at all. I'm sorry."

He took a gruff breath, causing his nostrils to flare as he sucked in. "You're making a mistake."

"Maybe I am," she said. "I'm causing you a great deal of hardship, and I'm sorry for that, even though I just met you this evening. I don't mean to put a bend in your plan. That was not my goal. But I was really… I should not have let you come at all."

"Had you replied the negative to my request, I would've come anyway," he said. "My friends, Salazar and Helga… they have the dream too."

"And you can't do it without me?" she pleaded.

"We shall see," he said. "We shall be taking up residence somewhere here in Scotland, if you change your mind. Send me an owl if you have a change of heart. Or if your daughter suffocates or something…"

Her ice glare hardened again as he rose from his chair. He drew his lined gloves back on his hand and drew the hood of his cloak back over the top of his head. She did not see him to the door, and neither of them had a parting word for each other.

When Godric stepped out into the night, the sky broke into a ferocious lightning,, lighting the heavens and shattering the solemnity he left behind. By the time he was straddling his horse, the entire home behind him was dark, without a single light. But he could see the shadow of young woman leaning in the kitchen window.

He bowed his head against the rain that began to pour and took his horse forward, heading home empty-handed. The problem with Godric Gryffindor was that he'd never been exceedingly charismatic… and yet, he still usually got what he wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

Rowena had to stash her wand away from herself to prevent blowing up the house. Her sister woke listening to the rage occurring on the floor above. The babe, Helena slept on.

Daphne Ravenclaw took the stairs warily. Rowena, always moody, could be known to blast whatever was annoying her out of her way at first chance. As the early morning dawn crept in through the windows, Daphne crept up the steps. She knocked slowly on her younger sister's door and waited patiently, drawing her dressing gown more tightly around herself.

"Yes?" Rowena growled.

Daphne opened the door to reveal her sister standing in front of the window, still in yesterday's clothes, her hair streaming down her back like wild Medusa snakes. The tendrils of black hair shivered as if independent from Rowena's body. Daphne knew that was a sure sign that something magical and potentially very large was bubbling insider her sister, and while she had no wand to direct it, it was exuding just the same.

Daphne herself was not a wielder of a wand. She feared it and never showed the signs. While Rowena hexed trees into doing her bidding, Daphne watched by, picking her own apples off of the low branches of the trees in the orchard. But then again, most people never thought the two Ravenclaw girls were even sisters. Rowena stood tall and thin, to a point of look like a aesthetic, Daphne was short and somewhat stout. She had wiry blonde straight hair, to rival her sister's raven curls. They did not seem like a likely pair. But someone needed to look after Rowena, for when she was happy, marvelous things happened. But when she wasn't, entire earthquakes could occur.

Daphne knew that Rowena had nary a bad bone in her body. According to the single mentor that had ever instructed Rowena, she had so much power and so much magic, that not even the most powerful witch or wizard in the world could keep it in. And it flexed with her mood.

"Are you all right?" Daphne wondered gently, walking past the cradle containing Helena, who was little more than a blue-bundled blob of flesh.

"I'm fine," Rowena lied, turning around. Daphne quickly noted the flush in her sister's usually unnaturally pale cheeks and the clench of her jaw.

"Sure you," Daphne said, shaking her head.

"It doesn't matter," Rowena said, steadying her hands. "It's done. She knelt down and pulled her wand out from underneath Helena's cradle. She picked it up and let out a stream of sapphire sparks and smiled with satisfaction. Daphne sighed

Godric's horse carried him north, until he finally reached the small independent manor that was housing him and his friends for the time being. Helga was sprawled in the front lawn in a buttercup dress, with her strawberry blonde curls flowing freely above her head. She, in all her youthful, beauty, was a massive contrast to the emerald grass.

"Where's Salazar?" Godric demanded, dismounting. His tone caused Helga to sit upright and narrow her eyes, her face flashing with concern.

"In the forest," Helga replied, rising and following him without invitation around the back of the house. Flashes of light in the depth of the forest were an indicator as to Salazar's position. Godric was shedding his traveling clothes and ducking through the trees quickly. He found his oldest friend kneeling on the forest floor, wand raised, a grin on his face. Four snakes were winding around his position, black and gray beasts, slithering around him.

Godric was the most audacious person that Helga or Salazar had ever met. But he hated snakes. They shook him to his core. Despite his fear, he stepped forward into the clearing, knowing that Salazar already had his controls over the serpents and that they would not harm him. Salazar, with his long dark hair and deep pit eyes, looked like a sinister being. He just preferred his friends the snakes to humans, and liked to be cold, and he liked the dark. He was a gentle person, kindhearted, but extremely opinionated—to the point where his opinions could overshadow his natural gentility. Often.

"What's wrong my friend?" Salazar wondered, rising instantly. With a choked hiss from his throat, all but one of the snakes slithered away from him into the brush, the other wound its way up his arm and rested there like jewelry around his wrist.

"Goddamn women!" Godric shouted. Salazar smirked, and the two of them ignored Helga's petulant "humph" behind them.

"What happened?" Salazar said, rising. Helga joined them in the circle too, trying to keep her dress from dragging in the dirt.

"Well…" Godric said, a scowl breaking over his handsome face. "Goddamn her… Ravenclaw! She's got some sort of child with that Lord of hers, I'm not exactly sure… but she won't leave the kid to come with us. No matter the fact that I'm pretty sure she doesn't even like _it." _

"Women," Salazar huffed as Helga said, "I understand that!"

Godric waved his wand at the nearest tree, severing it in two. Helga made an annoyed noise again. She thought that Godric had an issue controlling his temper.

"So what do we do?" Salazar said. "We need her. She is the—pardon me, Helga—most brilliant witch of the age."

"I accept that," Helga said, drifting through the trees a little and conjuring herself a bridge over a chilly brook. She tiptoed across it daintily.

Salazar looked after her for a moment a smile crossing her face. Godric just laughed. A truer juxtaposition would never be seen if those two ended up paramours. Helga looked like a fairy, while Salazar more like a snake himself.

"Need I set a snake on her, this Ravenclaw?" Salazar wondered, following Godric back toward the house.

Godric made a noise of distaste in the back of his throat. "No."

"She will come," Salazar said after a moment. "If there is one thing I know about women, they are as power hungry as the rest of us. No insolent child will change that. She will come. If she must obliviate the memories of her entire village she will. She is human, she will come."

Godric sighed gently finally, letting the temper that had been boiling in him since Rowena Ravenclaw said that she would not come suddenly dissolve into the air. It slid away like a wisp of smoke and was gone. Godric smiled to himself, and hoped silently that his patient, gentle friend was right.

Salazar laughed gently to himself and whispered something more in Parseltongue. The snake seemed to spring from his wrist and it too slithered back into the wood.

"My old friend, Godric," Salazar said, looking around at the world. "What will all of this be a year from now?"

To his far left was a massive loch, a great black lake with depths that Godric wasn't even sure about. It was what had originally drawn the trio to this place. It was the lake, so heavily laden with magic beasts than any other place they'd come across in their travels of Britain. The same could be said for the forest, where a family of centaurs had just taken up residence. Magic drew magic. Magic always left traces.

It hadn't taken long for them to have all of the land. It was an abandoned manor, plus a little bit of befuddlement later. There was enough room for an entire castle, to stretch up high and take of the entire countryside. And yet to Muggles it would be naught but an empty field with a rundown, uninhabital farm, marked with a sign indicating that once the plague was here and it was to never be entered again. Or something like that.

Godric pushed open the back door to their current house, which would soon be expanded profusely. He led Salazar inside and hung up his cloak and left his boots by the door. His personal house elf, Nobbly took the rest of his travel things and carried away the massive ruby-studded sword Godric carried everywhere.

Salazar's elf tended to him too, and then the two gentlemen headed into the kitchen for the meals prepared by all three elves earlier. All three house elves obeyed all three masters, but it was clear where the final loyalties lay.

"Masters Slytherin and Gryffindor," Opie, Helga's elf chirruped. "Opie hopes you would like to eats now, yes? Opie and Nobbly and Bok made it for you, oh yes."

"Please, Opie," Godric said, sitting down with a sigh at the table. Salazar was still smiling.

"So what was Ravenclaw like?" he wondered.

"Just as they said," Godric said, peeling the crust off a piece of bread from the loaf Opie shoved in front of them.

"Meaning?" Salazar prompted, pulling his share of the bread closer to him.

"Meaning incredibly beautiful," Godric said. "Testy, intelligent, and resolute."

Salazar laughed. "Women."

"Women," Godric echoed tapping his wand and getting them both some ale. He took a big swig and grinned at his friend. "Can't live with them. Can't live without them.'

"No we certainly can't do that," Salazar said, his eyes flashing.

He smiled almost mischievously and Godric couldn't help but burst into peals of laughter at the sight. His friend joined in too. In truth, they really were kids at heart, and the world probably thought that of them. Magic in the hands of children, some might say. But it wasn't true. Godric was the most talented duelist, as proven by many a contest, Salazar could charm his way out of anything, and Helga was in fact a seer, one of few, with a sight, but not the air that many seers possessed. She was not flightly or haughty, but just capable. And here they were, one short, of a witch that was probably more talented than anyone of them, but just happened to be shut as the lady of muggle world, where she most certainly didn't belong.

She was a half-blood, Ravenclaw, Godric knew. She had a witch mother who died young, and never disclosed her abilities. Or so Godric heard. And now Rowena herself was trapped in that world with no motivation to get out. He knew she had a devotion to her daughter, as any woman would to their child… but at the same time, the future education of the wizards of Britain was almost bigger than blood. Perhaps it was coarse of him to think so, but that was just him. He hatched his plan with his three friends, and didn't like the concept of a talent, albeit silly, widow standing in his way.

Particuarly one as annoyingly beautiful as she. That if anything was a thorn in his side beyond anything else.

See Godric and Salazar both had never been particularly modest about their relationships with women. They did as they pleased, with the beautiful. They charmed witches and muggles and used many means to get what they desired. And the fact was that what he wanted more than anything from this Rowena was her loyalty. And she would not give it up. If he tried to charm her, he would certainly find himself scarred from magic he didn't know existed. And that just happened to be the thing on his mind.

"You look troubled," Salazar commented over the rabbit soup they were eating slowly.

"It's just her," Godric complained.

"What did I tell you?" Salazar wondered. "I have no doubt that she will come, Godric. There is nothing stopping her."

"She has a child," Godric pointed out, failing to see how this point was still lost on his oldest friend.

"I don't like children," Salazar grumbled.

"That might not be good, as we are opening a school…" Godric said slowly, trying to read his friend's face.

"Eleven-year-olds are most certainly not children," Salazar said, smiling strictly. "Once they reach double digits, they're not children. Not in this day and age."

"Well if you ask Helga that will be a child eventually, in the future," Godric said.

"Sometimes I wonder if she really sees what is going on or just makes it up to annoy


	3. Chapter 3

Rowena looked down at her daughter. Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of an Earl. All she had hoped in the nine months she had carried the child was for her to fall instantly in love with her in the way that all mother's claimed they did, or to have child birth take her life. It was horrible, and she knew that that was the truth. All she wanted was for to not look down at the girl with resent.

Rowena's relationship with her late husband consisted of one night, their wedding night, and two weeks later, with her all but sleeping in another bed, his death. It had been enough to conceive a child, and enough for Rowena to develop an even greater distaste for her husband than she had before she married him. This child was little more than a constant reminder of the time in her life where she was selfless.

Had she been older, Rowena always thought she would feel different about this. If she was in her twenties, things would be different. As it was though, she was just eighteen, and she'd always dreamed of more for herself.

It could be vain of her, but she'd certainly always seen herself as talented. When she'd accepted the proposal from the earl, well… it was more or less saying good bye to all of it.

She didn't like to think that it was all goodbye from here on out. She took a deep breath and headed downstairs. The answer was obvious all along, and she knew it. With a single bag, small, but full of all her possessions, she headed down the stairs of her home and out the front door.

She'd sent an owl, but she was heading north anyway. All that it had taken were several, easy, but complex memory charms, and suddenly, Daphne was convinced that Helena was her child, as so was the entire town. In fact, Rowena Ravenclaw, the widow of the earl, had left shortly after his death.

Godric Gryffindor's proposal had been too good to refuse. Despite what she was leaving behind, she had so much more to gain. She thought about it. Where would she be if someone had only really taught her what to do? There was the one old mentor, but he died before anything of worth could come out of his mouth. Rowena had been left to figure it out on her own. Which was hard enough. She would've had it even more difficult if things didn't just come naturally to her. She wanted to help that young witch or wizard who was in the place she was in back then. That was all.

And she liked the concept of getting out of this town.

Rowena pulled out her wand, flipped the hood of her traveling cloak over her head, and turned on the spot. With a crack, she had transported herself to a place she'd been millions of times before. It was her sanctuary. Here, magic attracted magic, and it drew her from a young age, when she was on horseback with her family, traveling from the north down to the place that would become their home. She had no idea of her powers at that point, and yet as they passed the lake and stopped for a quick lunch, Rowena wandered to the edge and looked into the depths. A long tentacle reached out toward her, bigger around than the trees of the massive forest towering to the side. When Rowena exclaimed to her mother, the tentacle disappeared.

For the rest of his life, Godric would insist that it was the biggest coincidence in the history of the world. Rowena maintained forever that he was just pretending he knew less about her than he said he did. Helga and Salazar chose to remain impartial, but knew that they would, in the end, take their friends' sides.

When Rowena turned from her gaze on the lake, she came across the house, a manor with all of its window's lit up. It was mostly dark, around, save for a small beam of light, like the lit end of a wand tip. Rowena narrowed her eyes gently and peered into the dark, waiting for the person behind the surprisingly blinding light to reveal him or herself. On instinct, she drew her own wand, holding it gently at her waist, tip pointed straight out to defend herself at a moment's notice.

"Oh Godric is going to be so pleased!" A flighty high bell voice cheered from behind the tip. "I _told _him!"

Rowena flicked her wand tip alight and looked at the young woman, close to her age, standing in the dark, wrapped up in a black cloak, with strawberry hair piled into a messy heap on the top of her head. The girl—Rowena hypocritically viewed her as a girl—had a round face and kind hazel eyes. A head shorter than Rowena, she was dwarfed when she approached.

"Who are you?" Rowena demanded, taking an involuntary step back. Not that she thought this meek mouse posed much of a threat.

"I'm Helga Hufflepuff!" the girl chirruped, smiling brightly. "And you're Lady Ravenclaw? Rowena? We'll do first names, I think. We all do first names. Come in, come in."

"I really have a destination," Rowena muttered as the girl clutched her by the arm. Rowena's own owl fitted through the sky and landed silently on her shoulder, bearing still the letter destined for the hand of Gryffindor.

"You got lost!" Rowena said, appalled at her trusted owl's failure.

"She didn't get lost," Hufflepuff replied. "She was destined to come here. Come in now, come in!"

Hufflepuff gripped her more tightly and towed her toward the house. I simple silent stinging hex would send the girl reeling. Rowena was too confused to protest, however, and just let the stubborn girl pull her into the house.

"We have a visitor!" Helga called when she came in through the door. A house-elf quickly relieved Rowena of her cloak so that she was standing hoodless in all of her beauty, with her tightly laced dark blue dress.

Two cracks happened almost simultaneously. With them, two men—barely men—stood in front of her. Rowena recognized the one on the left as Godric Gryffindor, with his mane of untamed red hair, but clean-shaven face and bulky, towering stance. On his left was another man, extremely lean with beady eyes, and even longer dark black hair that hung bone straight. He had a locket studded with emeralds hanging around his neck, and speculative, but amused and humanizing look on his face.

"You came," Godric said, his voice heavy with shock.

"I told you she would come," the other man said.

"So did I," Helga offered with a sing-song voice.

Rowena sighed. "I'm glad you were making bets about me."

"Welcome," Godric said, walking forward and kissing her hand once more. 'My Lady Ravenclaw, may I present Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin. Sal, Helga, this is Rowena Ravenclaw."

Ravenclaw looked at the three in front of her and then broke out into a smile. 'So we're starting a school."

Helga beamed and did some extravagantly childish form of a happy dance. With a swish of her yellow dress, she disappeared into another room, leaving Rowena alone with the two men.

Salazar looked sideways and Godric, laughed once and walked away, producing from the pocket of his cloak, a thin garden snake.

"They aren't much of a welcoming committee," Godric said. "But they aren't as vexed by you as I am. Mostly because I got to deal with you first hand." He made an angry face in her direction. "They just assumed. But don't worry. You will be as good of friends with us as we are already. When you spend your life with few other people, you learn to like them." Rowena nodded.

"Where should I take my back?" she wondered.

'Allow me," he said, snapping his fingers. A bright wrinkled elf appeared at his side. "Nobbly, this is Mistress Rowena, and you will respect her just as you respect Master Salazar and Mistress Helga. Could you please take her bag up to the room at the east end, down the hall on the second floor?"

"Yes, Master," Nobbly said, bowing once for him and once for Rowena.

"Come into the kitchen, Miss Ravenclaw?" Godric offered.

"Call me Rowena," she said gently, following his lead into the kitchen. He pulled back a chair for her next to Helga who was picking at a piece of bread with a smile on her face. Salazar was leaning at the counter, clearly having an intent conversation with the snake on his arm.

"You're a parselmouth?" Rowena questioned, smiling eagerly. She'd always wanted to meet one.

Salazar looked at her, and a grin broke across his face. "Yes."

"That's an amazing gift," she commented.

"Don't let it go to his head," Helga said. "People fawn over it all the time—if they aren't terrified, I mean. But we're, I fear, too sensible to fear."

"Well what are the three of you good at?" Rowena wondered, resting her wand gently on the table. Godric's own wand was in his hand as well, because he was using it to carve his name into the table like a little boy with his first knife.

"Salazar specializes in all things creature related, all things nature related, and potions," Godric said. Salazar cracked another grin.

"And Godric," Helga offered. "He has a dueling reputation that isn't seen anywhere."

"And Helga is a seer," Salazar pointed out, letting his snake slitter across the wooden counter.

"A seer?" Rowena questioned. "Real or some of the time."

Helga narrowed her eyes. "Real? What sort of question is that?"

"There are many seers, half seers, or pretenders," Rowena objected.

Helga sighed. "I'm real, thank you very much. In all aspects, the things you… blind people laugh at."

Godric laughed. "She reads tea leaves with such accuracy it's actually worrisome." He leanedback in his chair, putting his hands behind his head.

"And you?" Helga questioned Rowena.

"I'm… a charmer? A transfigurer? Arithmancy? What I know of it…' she said, stumbling around.

"She's good at everything," Godric informed him friends. "From what I've gathered."

Rowena turned crimson, a shade she didn't often demonstrate to others. She liked to believe she was incapable of blushing. But even she could not charm the blood out of her cheeks.

"Good at everything?" Helga said, smiling gently. "But she's not a seer, or a parselmouth… so I'm safe and so is Salazar… the only one that can be… outshone… is Gryffindor."

Godric rolled his eyes. "It was my idea in the first place."

"A simple charm can make you forget that," Salazar teased, waving his wand menacingly.

Godric laughed and looked at Rowena. "We shall see, now won't we?"

It was Rowena's turn to laugh. She smiled and threw her head back gently, letting the curls shiver over her shoulders. Helga joined in too, and even Salazar's breezy laugh found amusement in nothing. But it wasn't hard for four people that instantly understood each other to get along. All it entailed was sharing a similar problem. And for the four of them, it just happened that that they all were extremely talented, extremely self-interested, extremely talented, and extremely young and naïve.

Outside the walls of the house, the world continued on. Inside however, a certain sort of scheming was occurring that only four great minds together could create. For building a school, despite all their magical capabilities, was perhaps not as simple as they would have liked to believe. Not that things usually stood in their way. Besides, four heads were, with the utmost certainty, better than just one.


	4. Chapter 4

Godric was watching her and he was fully certain she hadn't the faintest idea of it. He'd seen how easily she fit with all of his friends, and that was promising. And of course she had that arrogant air that each of them possessed—particularly Godric himself.

It was extremely uncouth of him to be acting as he was. He was peering into her room. His excuse was—and he certainly had one—that if she wanted privacy, she could very well close her bedroom door.

Her room was the only other room on the floor with his. Helga liked the attic atmosphere, and Salazar kept his snake friends in the basement where he slept. It had taken several minor flicks of her wand for Rowena to transform her room to her liking, Godric noted. The walls were blue, the ceiling transformed to look like a real night sky hovered above it—a magnificent bit of magic—her bed was hovering in midair and occasionally, it would swing back and forth. She'd done wonders with the small bit of space in front of her.

"Why don't you come in?" she whispered.

Godric froze. "How long have you known I'm here?"

"The entire time," she said. "You breathe very loudly."

He sighed and walked into her bedroom, fingering gently the silken blue coverlet on the bed, emblazoned with bronze-colored flowers.

"Look don't touch?" she offered, a slick smirk crossing her porcelain features.

He laughed a little, smiling back at her. She pulled things out of her bag, which apparently was much deeper than its external features led Godric to believe. Of course it was. He shouldn't have been surprised.

"You left it all behind?" he wondered, as if seeing all of the things she was taking out of the bag surprised him.

'Of course I did," she said. "I wouldn't have come without the utmost dedication to this project."

He nodded. "What about your daughter."

She looked at him intently, her ice blue eyes emotionless. "Nothing a simple memory charm or two can't fix, do you not agree?"

Godric smiled more broadly. "I'm glad you came. We would be lost without you, I'm already sure you know."

She shook her head. "I'll bet you would have managed just fine had I not come, really, Godric."

It was his turn to shake his head. "So you think."

"Well, we'll never know now, will we?" she teased,

He shook his head, a little amused by her, he couldn't deny it.

"Are you upset you had to leave her behind?" he questioned, leaning against the wall.

"Who?" she whispered.

'Your daughter?" he said, even though he knew she knew perfectly well who he was talking about.

"Mm," she said, giving her shoulders a light shrug. "I'll fix it up when she grows up a bit."

He shook his head, but she didn't see, as she was up to her shoulder in her bag. He wondered, with absolutely no experience to his name, whether it was possible to, as she said, "fix it up" when things like this were concerned.

He sighed to himself and she looked up at him.

"We're a sighing group of people aren't we?" she questioned.

"it comes with being extremely talented," he said, winking once. She smiled and shook her head, causing the curls to shiver around her face and tickle her shoulders.

He couldn't help but stare at her, and figured she was used to that, so he didn't feel that abashed in staring at her.

She sighed again and then was forced to laugh at herself, a tinkling laugh that was brighter even than Helga's—a fate Godric didn't even begin to believe was possible. It was beautiful, like pealing, alto bells, but it was lively, bright, too.

He smiled at her, it was impossible not to.

"I'll let you finish getting settled in," he said, laughing, and ducking out of the hallway. He headed noisily down the stairs, passing Helga as she drifted up with a levitated cup of something in front of her. Tea.

"Does it work if you pour the tea for her?" Godric questioned.

Helga made a perturbed face at him. 'Do I ever do things the way that doesn't work, Godric?"

He laughed and shook his head, letting Helga pass him on his way down.

Rowena looked up at the first knocks on her door. Helga was standing there, wrapped up in a black shawl, smiling brightly.

"Come in," Rowena said, sitting in the chair she had conjured for the corner of her room. She flicked her wand and another squshy blue, high-backed chair appeared. Helga sat in it and offered a cup of tea to Rowena.

"Do you mind if I do a reading?" Helga asked eagerly. Rowena couldn't help but laugh a little at the childlike excitement in Helga's eyes.

"Well… sure," Rowena said, laughing gently.

"Well you drink this while I do some palmistry," Helga said, taking Rowena's left hand. "The logical hand…" She smiled. "And the hand more commonly read for men… but I will do both for you."

Rowena knew exceedingly little about divining. And waited patiently, sipping her strong tea while Helga hemmed and hawed over her hand as if her life depended on it to do so.

"Let's see…" Helga said. "Well… your life line certainly is long. Longer than Salazar's, and mind you, that's saying something. It curves massively, which means you have a lot of vitality, but you're head line is stronger than it… which means you're more mentally active… Your heart line… well you're very particular about your choice in lover… Your head line is straight as a bone… you have very clear and concentrated ideas… not surprising… Your fate line says you will be active until you are very old… and yet you had a restricted childhood…"

"You can tell all of that from my hand?" Rowena said, still sipping her tea carefully.

"It's really easy," Helga said. "I'll show you sometime. It's the most rudimentary skills of divination and you certainly don't have to have any special sight to be successful at it… Now hurry up and drink."

Rowena scalded her throat gulping down most of the tea. When There was a quarter of an inch was left in the cup, Helga instructed her to swirl it around and then drain the remaining contents. Then she seized Rowena's cup and held up for close speculation.

"Interesting!" she exclaimed suddenly. "You will… if you have not already… met your true love… you will regret a recent decision, but have extreme intellectual success and other great successes, though you will never be truly, completely happy. Mostly happy, certainly, but never truly happy."

Rowena looked at her for a moment, thinking. "Interesting?"

"True love…" Helga said. "Mine says for certain I've met mine… I do a reading everyday, and that's always there. But I can usually do a day to day thing… but the long term is much more prominent… For instance though… with these next few days… I would expect, for you, great change… isn't that obvious? And perhaps a little discomfort, but definite… joy? I believe."

Rowena laughed a little, not sure if she believed in all of this.

He gave her a stern look. "You can laugh, but ask Godric or Sal… I can very easily call the Sight at any moment I choose to. But it… believe it or not… can be a bit of a nuisance. Especially if I'm looking for something specific, and I can't find it… It just doesn't work that well… There are problems with the way it works. Nothing is completely certain… Hmm… I block it out… Hmm…"

"Do you read a crystal ball?" Rowena wondered.

Helga beamed. "Of course. And star chart based predictions… I love Astronomy…"

Rowena shook her head. "I commend you. I don't doubt your talents, it's just interesting to see if you're right."

"As I said, nothing is for certain," Helga said, vanishing the tea cup with a wave of her wand. Rowena smiled and stood, walking over to her wardrobe.

"You're from here in Scotland, correct?" Helga wondered, standing up and swishing to stand behind Rowena. Rowena, hand in her wardrobe in search of her nightdress, turned to look at the much shorter woman.

"Yes," Rowena said. "And you're from?"

"The Welsh valleys," Helga offered. "Couldn't you tell from the accent?"

Rowena nodded. "I believe I could."

"It's nice to finally have another woman her. It makes life a little easier for me. Despite the houselves, there is a great deal of weight put on the sole woman's shoulders. Sal and Godric mean well… and yet they get a little cocky. They have been friends for a very long time. And they're very conspiratorial. Now I will have a partner to side with me in order to avoid all of the dirty work…" Helga shook her head. "They're very nice though, both of them. Even Salazar… You would look at him at first and be a little… nervous. He doesn't quite look like the happiest, sweetest person ever to walk this earth… But he is both happy and sweet, if not as happy and sweet as perhaps… I am."

"You fancy him," Rowena said, finally discovering her midnight blue silken nightdress. She loved all parts of the color blue, all shades and tints.

"I do not!" Helga said, characteristic red head blush creeping into her freckled cheeks.

"You can say that if you would choose to," Rowena said, tossing her curls over her shoulder.

"Well… who's to say…?" Helga wondered, trailing off. "I mean… of course… well… I haven't known him all that long… and it's foolish to believe I have any idea about him."

"I would be a little unnerved about the snakes," Rowena commented, shaking her head.

"Of course… it isn't proper to feel anything for him this soon…" Helga murmured, ignoring Rowena's comment. "But…. Well what if it is the right thing?"

"Did you see it in your future?" Rowena commented. "In the crystal ball perhaps?"

Rowena noted that the blush in Helga's cheeks was definitely a tell-tale sign. The girl certainly had little ability to lie, Rowena was certain.

"You've seen _something,´_ she accused the girl in yellow.

"Yes, I've seen something," Helga admitted grudgingly.

"And?" Rowena prompted, laying her dress out on her bed and sitting back down in the chair. Helga continued to stand, pacing over to stand by the window.

"And… well, nothing is set in stone," she whispered.

"It's true if you make it true," Rowena informed her, watching the shoulders of the woman move up and down as she breathed.

Helga shook her head. "I'm not even certain that it works that way…"

"Have you looked at his future?" Rowena wondered, as Helga paced in front of the window.

Helga blushed again. "Yes."

"And do they overlap?" Rowena said, feeling as if she was trying to get Daphne to let her rid her of the pock marks that had always plagued the older sister's visage—it really was just a simple hex. It was just slightly more difficult that extracting information from Helga Hufflepuff.

"Yes," Helga said.

"Well how could you fight it?" Rowena said, as if it were that simple.

Helga shook her head. "Things don't always work out."

"Do you make it a point to dive into all of your friends' futures?" Rowena asked, looking down at the palm of her hand again.

Helga shrugged lightly, turning away from the window to face Rowena again. "On occasion."

"And what do you see for them?"

"Whatever I get flickers of," Helga murmured. "Godric… for instance… he's going to have about three children, two boys and a beautiful girl with dark hair… and emerald eyes."

Rowena nodded, laughing lightly. "What about me?"

Helga thought for a moment, closing her eyes. When she opened them, she smiled. "Four children."

Rowena got the impression that Helga was certainly not telling her everything that she knew about these four children…


	5. Chapter 5

He tapped his wand against his thigh, pacing back and forth while looking at their home. Salazar was standing by, watching Godric's thought process. Suddenly, Godric raised his wand, muttered something, and shot the spell at the wall of the house. Immediately, as if from nowhere, the wall began to stretch, pulling out like a massive hall, a corridor. Godric grinned triumphantly, beaming at his friend. Salazar laughed and brandished his wand up, making the newly stretched massive attachment stretch upward. Godric continued around their house, added outward until the manor had multiplied into a castle so vast and tall that it was intimidating. He spun his wand to make towers and added windows and doors. One massive addition got stretched and widened with windows on it that stretched from floor to ceiling. Inside, the girls were adding room divisions as fast as they could, a sadly more time-consuming process than the process of expanding the castle. Salazar laughed and built a massive tower that stretched up high—an Astronomy tower for Helga, he said. Godric expanded his tower into an ovular, massive space that stretched many floors, and the perfectly round tower was for Rowena, who said she always fancied living in a tower room.

When they joined the women inside, they helped with the division of spaces into classrooms. They transfigured the stone into stone of their choice, carving it out gently into beautiful columns with their wands. They added floors to the massive spaces and staircases to connect all of them. Beautiful staircases that Rowena spent an hour on just to carve out their beautiful intricate details and to get them to gleam as if they were her pride and joy—and only would Godric find out later, she placed a spell on all of them so that they occasionally spun and moved to a different door, so often times, a hall would open to nothing and one would have to wait patiently until the staircase moved itself back around again.

Helga focused on the walls, stretching the hallways and curving the ceilings into perfect arches with the same detail that Rowena applied to the staircases. She moved it all into an almost Grecian Gothic sort of arrangement. Godric focused on the exterior, gliding along on a broomstick to hover above the new castle and supports and external flare, as well as a courtyard. Salazar targeted the grounds, sloping the hills here and there, and adding several stone pathways. He smiled to himself, watching as the castle took shape behind him.

It took several days to get it to precisely the way they wanted it, tunnels and dungeons dug out of the ground. Finally, it was a castle, the likes of which were seen commonly in Scotland, although, Rowena chose to point out to Godric in an aside, usually they were much more crude than this.

It wasn't hard for them all to stake out a space. The two towers Godric had created went to the people they were intended for. He'd known all along from the floating bed in her room that Rowena liked the concept of being up high. She was an airy individual. So to her went the taller of the towers, spattered with many, many windows so that the room was very much like a greenhouse. He had claimed his tower with little fight, finding it very simple, and welcoming. He took the topmost floor of it for himself, hoping soon to house students in the rooms below him.

The Gryffindor colors had always been scarlet and gold. Those two colors had been passed down in his family for several generations. So it was with those that he decorated the stone walls of his tower. His massive bed was adorned with Scarlet throws and the most luxurious embellishments. Hung from its towering four posts were fine hangings, that too were a faint echo of Godric himself, for Godric Gryffindor didn't hold back on anything. Ever. If he hadn't such a high opinion of himself, he wouldn't have been, perhaps, as eager to bestow upon himself all the markings of wealth and elegance. But he did have an unrestrictedly high view of himself, and therefore, lavishness was a requirement.

In the dungeons, Salazar had created his own personal hole. The ceilings hung low, so that a man any taller than Salazar or Godric would have to stoop to walk around down there. The walls were black stones, shining in the eerie green light. The entire place was under the lake. In Salazar's own chamber, the bed was flat and narrow, to the point where one could just throw himself down upon it and not have to climb at all. Green and silver, with a lot of black, seemed to be Salazar's trend, as usual. The Slytherin family colors, complete with their snake, had been in the family almost as long as the Gryffindor colors and lion had been in that family.

By the kitchens, Helga had transformed a section of the castle into what almost felt like a woodland creature's den. With perfectly round doors, it gave the impression of a burrow or set. Everything was comfortable, with a set in common area with cushions and chairs. Helga's chamber included a circular bed, fitted with the yellow and black that she always wore—yellow for the sun, black for the night, she always said, and even Salazar who understood most of Helga's quirks, didn't understand that at all.

It was Rowena's tower, however, that Godric was most interested in seeing. She'd put, thus far, the most thought into the divisions that would be necessary come a school session. As the four had already expressed their intentions of taking on students selectively, four sets of dormitories would be required, Rowena reasoned. In her tower, it was evident that that was the most crucial aspect of her plan. The main area, perfectly round and exccedingly tall, branched into two separate staircases, both spiraled and perfect, that wound up to the girl and boy dormitories above. The staircases wound through seven floors, each divided in perfect halves, boys on one side, girls on the other. On the eighth floor of this extravagant tower, was the lady's chamber herself. It had her customary floating bed to one side of the circular room, with a wardrobe on the right, and her desk on the side with all of the windows facing out over the grounds. It was quality work, Godric decided. And his two other friends agreed. There was something particular about the way Rowena Ravenclaw worked her magic. Everything she touched almost seemed to glow with a sunny brightness. Or, when Godric thought about it, it was more like the glimmering wink of a star.

She magnetic, and he was fairly certain she had no idea about it. She was beautiful, too, but that was a granted. Her entire being radiated perfection and gentility. He was magnetized. Sadly. He didn't know what to do about it, except for one thing. He could only consult the other woman in his life—Helga Hufflepuff.

"What do you see for me?" he wondered, attempting to beat gently around the bush.

"You know I don't like to tell you that," she complained as she braided her hair one morning.

"It's a lot more convenient if you don't hide everything," he informed her.

"I'm very sorry," she said. "But… I won't give it all. You know that. I think it causes you to become distracted if you know everything. You'll just be perpetually waiting for it to come true, and that, I'm afraid is wasting your life."

Godric grimaced at her. In his life, he'd met many seers. Most of them couldn't even call their Inner Eye on demand. They waited for prophecies to take hold of them and spill out, often times when they weren't even aware. They were able, perhaps, to read a crystal ball or tea leaves with more skill than the average witch or wizard. Helga, however was different. She could poke into the future in search of anything she wanted to find just by shifting her mind with her eyes closed—or that was how she described it to him. She could see it all. So Godric couldn't help but ask, what good was it, living in close quarters with perhaps the most gifted Seer of all time, and have her not willing to disclose all of the information?

Helga pursed her lips. "What exactly do you want to know Godric?"

He thought about how to word this, knowing that Helga was very particular with her rules. He would have to chose carefully, as if she were a Greek oracle, one question, one answer. No more, no less.

"When will I meet the woman I marry?" he decided finally.

She snorted. "Original. As if that one is the most frequently asked. That and… well, when will I die?"

"I would prefer not to know that one," he insisted.

She smiled bitterly. "Either way."

"So?" he prompted, looking at her expectantly.

"You've already met her," she said, crossing her arms. Godric could tell she was pleased with the question only because her greatest weakness was dates. As the days of the year were not very well kept track of, she always found it hard to pick out the moment in time in which a scene in her head occurred. She could do it with much focus, but when woman was already in his past and present, she could find it more easily.

Godric crossed his legs in front of him and smiled somewhat contently.

"You look pleased," she said disdainfully.

"Of course I am," he said. "I like to think I know who she is."

"Why didn't you ask me that?" she wondered. "What her name is, I mean?"

"Because," he said. "Like you said, it's always good to leave some things up to fate, leave some things to mystery. I wouldn't want to become distracted."

"Remember that this only applies if you continue on the exact course that you are set on right now," she pointed out. "Everything is subject to change."

Godric kept the grin on his face. "Thank you, Helga, I know this was extremely difficult for you."

"Morally, yes," she said, nodding strictly. "But in terms of ease of accomplishing the task well… you know me."

"Yes, yes," he said., "You are the most talented Seer on the face of the earth, Helga, the most talented."

She blushed. "No if you'll excuse me."

She stood up in her chamber and whisked out of the room, leaving him sitting at her desk still. He laughed gently and followed her out of the cluster of Hufflepuff rooms, and out into the hallway by the kitchens.

Salazar and Rowena were sitting in one of the courtyards, arguing with each other over something completely nonsensical, of course.

Rowena had her hair out, flowing down over her shoulders, she was titled back in a comfortable chair, with her face turned toward the sun, eyes closed, while she argued with him. Helga glanced at Godric as he stared at Rowena, and then she smiled gently, and headed over to conjure her own chair and sit by Salazar. Godric walked across the stones too, throwing his head back to look at the sun too. He stopped halfway toward them and turned around to look at their castle.

They'd done it. They'd made a brilliant structure, fit to be a school unlike any other Europe had seen before. Every bit of it was as wonderful as the skills of the four people creating it would allow. He couldn't help but grin to himself at the concept of the feat they'd already achieved. And they hadn't even begun. The road ahead of them was long, but he figured with Helga's prompting and pointing in different directions, they would eventually make it. They would figure it out.

He walked over to join his friends, a grin crossing his face. With a flick of his arm, a red armchair appeared, settling itself on the even stones in between Salazar's green stiff-backed chair, and Rowena's comfortable-looking blue one. His three friends smiled at him. It was impossible not to smile back.


	6. Chapter 6

Rowena was sprawled on her back in the cold grass, with a small cluster of floating blue flames warming the air around her. Just few away was the lake, stretching out like a black abyss into the distance. She breathed a sigh, gazing up high at the stars that twinkled above her.

Ever since she was little, she' had a fascination with the sky, especially with the stars. She'd never been quite taught how they worked in the magical world, as her education had been limited in things not pertaining to spell casting, potions and herbology. She was very eager to see what Helga could teach her about them.

While she stared upward, she smiled. She liked looking at the stars, wondering exactly what that meant about where she was. She always got the impression that there was a lot more to this world than where she was and the extension across the land… \

At the moment, she was just peaceful. She was happy to be where she was. At the moment, she was content to just ignore the past, ignore what was happening behind her in the past. She didn't let her head wander to thoughts of Helena and Daphne.

She sat up and looked at the lake. Then she looked behind her at the castle. The lights were on in Gryffindor's tower, and other lights twinkled, but the windows were too far away for her to see inside, so she hoped they were too far away to see her as well. She stood carefully, reaching behind her to unlace the bodice of her dress. No longer tight, the dress's front fell loosely away from her. She pulled it away from herself gently, and sighed, sliding out of the many layers of her dress until she stood there in nothing.

Leaving her dress in an empty pile behind her, she carried her wand with her as she tiptoed across the rocky shoreline to the water. It wasn't as cold as it looked when it splashed gently at the tips of her toes. She stepped one foot in, then another, and waded in until she was up to her waist. She kept her wand ready, waiting to fight off any of the mysterious lake creatures. For the moment, the entire thing was perfectly smooth and clear, like liquid ink. It was a mirror image of an indigo sky, with a small sliver of moon reflected in it, as well as most of the stars.

She waved her wand, giving herself a bubblehead charm and slipping beneath the water. She looked around gently, and saw little more than mounds of seaweed and a drop off that, had she walked a meter more, she would've found her feet out from underneath her, and nothing more than an expanse of dark fathoms beneath her.

She learned how to swim when she was younger. It was seen as a very unwomanly thing to do—coincidentally, an act of witch craft. But there had been a pond in the woods behind the house she grew up in. Her mother taught her how, she could remember. Her mother didn't teach Daphne how, just Rowena. For some reason, she thought that her youngest would want to know and would someday need to know.

When she finally resurfaced she broke out of the water, finding it up to her third rib. She laughed lightly to herself, feeling for the first time the chill of the night air on her shoulders and back. For the first time in a long time, she felt like a young girl again.

"What's funny?" a voice asked behind her.

She jumped and whirled, finding Godric Gryffindor, sitting on the bank, twirling his wand in his fingers. Watching her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, instantly covering herself up. "My lord… what are you doing, Gryffindor! Get away! Get! This is hardly proper… my god!" She scurried toward the edge of the lake and her clothes and he laughed not moving. He still watched her. She dried herself with a wave of her wand and slipped into her dress. She had it half laced when she fired the first curse. It hit him in the face, giving him a slice above his eye, which spurted a little bit of blood.

"What are _you _doing?" he demanded, springing up to his feet and holding his wand out too.

"What… you are _spying _on me!" she screeched. "How… disgusting!"

She shot another silent curse, with didn't cut but ached like a bee sting, right on his wand hand.

"Would you stop _hexing _me?" he demanded, shooting a shield charm into the air between them. She shot more spells, which didn't rebound, but just died gently upon colliding with his force. She knew how to get around the shield but debated it, feeling as if she could ruin everything if she hurt him _too _badly.

"Why are you watching me?" she wondered, her voice still uncommonly high.

"You're beautiful?" he offered.

She growled roughly and clenched her hand around her wand. Bright blue sparks flew out like a fountain. They scattered, and flew into the air, venting her anger that way while she glared at him. She wasn't going to hurt him now, but if he took down the shield charm, she might think differently.

"Beautiful?" she repeated. "That isn't an excuse. If I knew I was coming here to be _spied _on while swimming, then I might as well go home."

"Will you go home?" he wondered, dropping the shield charm. She had to put her wand behind her back to prevent herself from knocking him backwards.

"No!" she said, her voice still a growl. She shot another arch of sparks into the sky and he replaced the shield charm.

Suddenly, two other figures were running out onto the lawn. Helga and Salazar both had their wands drawn, but lowered them on the sight of their two friends locked with little more than a vulnerable shield charm between them.

"What's going on?" Sal demanded, going to stand by Godric's shoulder.

"He was watching me swim!" Rowena screeched. "Without any clothes on, mind you!"

"He _what?" _Helga demanded. "Be grateful I don't hex you myself, Gryffindor."

She walked around behind Rowena and finished lacing her dress up the rest of the way.

"What are you trying to do, Godric?" Salazar demanded, grabbing his friend around the collar. "I know you are better than this… Come on, we're going inside."

Helga sighed next to Rowena, who was grumbling cuss words under her breath. She tapped her wand at her hair, drying it instantly.

"He's usually not like this," Helga murmured. "If he hadn't been completely taken with you the first time he set eyes on you, he wouldn't do this.'

"Excuse me?" Rowena said, looking at Helga abruptly.

"He thinks you're the most beautiful and talented witch to ever grace this earth," Helga informed her gently.

"Oh," Rowena said softly. "Well he didn't need to spy on me to tell me that. He could have just said something…"

"What do you think about him?" Helga questioned.

"I find him to be a—usually—extremely nice man," Rowena replied as the two of them followed the men back to the castle.

Godric and Salazar headed into the kitchen.

"What were you thinking?" Sal demanded, shoving his friend into a chair by the fire.

"I wasn't," Godric replied, flicking his wand at the bowls and the pot of soup on the fire, so that a bowl was ladled out for him. He took it in his hands when it floated by through the air. Salazar sighed loudly.

"You could've ruined everything you've worked for, Godric," he said, fixing Godric with his dark eyes.

"I know," Godric said simply, blowing on a spoonful of soup.

"And you're okay with that?"

Godric closed his eyes. "She's so beautiful."

"I think that's hardly the point here, Godric," Salazar said, anger starting to seep into his voice. "You are impulsive and irrational."

Godric shook his head. "Sal, you have no idea."

"Did Helga tell you something?" Sal wondered, crossing his arms.

"No," Godric said. "I've inferred."

"Oh so you're making inferences now," Sal said. "That's always a good way to go."

"If people didn't make inferences, we'd never be able to find facts," Godric replied.

Salazar rolled his eyes at that. He couldn't stop himself. It was necessary.

"You can't just watch a girl swim in the nude because you find her beautiful," he informed his oldest friend. "I feel as if I'm teaching a child!"

"She's wiped me of my senses and my rationality," Godric declared. "Enchantress!"

"I believe that is what they call her, yes," Sal said, kicking his chair back so that it was balancing on the back legs, almost near to tipping.

Godric took a hefty slurp of his soup. "Well what should I do about it?"

"Let fate guide the way," Salazar replied simply, as if his answer wasn't cryptic.

"Thank you for that selflessly delivered piece of advice," Godric said, glaring at Salazar.

"It wouldn't be necessary if you could keep your wits about you," Salazar said.

"I'll leave that to her, thanks," Godric said. "She's the bright one. I'm the…"

"One with a lot of nerve," Salazar said.

"And what are you then?" Godric snapped, looking sideways at him.

"I don't know," Salazar. "Helga and I are here to balance out you too, I think."

"You're shrewd," Godric said.

"Shrewd…" Salazar said. "I hate that word."

"Well it's good if you're going to help found my school," Godric said.

"Your school eh?" Salazar said. 'I'd recommend you start realizing it's all of our school."

Godric sighed. His friend had a point. He wouldn't be here if it weren't for the rest of them. He levitated his bowl and proceeded to rub his hands over his face. He felt something warm and sticky, and realized that the gash above his eye was still bleeding. Grumbling, he flicked his wand at it, causing the wound to heal and the blood to disappear.

"You're lucky that's all she gave you," Helga said from behind them, entering into the kitchen while braiding her hair gently behind her. Salazar instantly gave her his chair and drew his own from the other side of the room. Godric rolled his eyes. Sal wasn't usually so chivalrous. That was usually Godric's job—flattering women, with it, for the most part.

"She's not very happy with you," Helga said, tying her hair gently with a silken yellow ribbon.

"Of course she' snot," Godric said. "She's not usually happy."

"She's happier, I think, here than she has ever been," Helga murmured.

"Right," Godric said. "It's best I not ruin that then."

"Yes, I would think so," she agreed.

"Where is she now?" Godric wondered, rising. "I should apologize."

"She's taking a bath," Helga said. "I don't think this would be the best time to go an apologize. It might make things worse."

"Oh," Godric said, sitting back down in the chair. "Right."

"She'll forgive you," Helga said.

"Do you know that for certain?" Godric wondered.

"Yes, I just looked,' Helga said.

Godric nodded. 'If only I could know if our futures overlapped more than that…" He looked hopefully sideways at Helga. She pursed her lips.

"Why can you people not leave anything left unknown?" she demanded.

"Because we have a more than able seer sitting right with us who knows the unknown and might as well not withhold," Godric said.

"Why can't Helga keep some things secret?" Salazar wondered.

"You're just too afraid that the future doesn't have what you want it too," Godric accused him.

"And you're not?" Sal demanded.

"No! I can handle it! I am not worried."

"Well perhaps you should be," Salazar said. 'What if she knew something horrible, something awful was going to happen."

"Better to be prepared than caught off guard," Godric said.

"But would you want to waste the rest of your life in fear of the moment when that something came?" Salazar wondered.

"I do not fear," Godric said. "I am not afraid."

"But you are foolish," Salazar said, standing up from his chair and whisking out of the room. Helga sighed, her gaze settling on Godric for a moment, before she too rose and followed after Salazar.


	7. Chapter 7

Helga was flopped across her bed in sheer comfort. Her silky butter yellow nightdress clung to her sweaty form. The heat of an encroaching summer was pressing down on her. That and the fact that she was sharing a small area of space with another human being. That had to add to the heat.

Salazar was sprawled next to her, completely clothed, in his regular day clothes. Just looking at him made Helga blush. The impropriety of this moment would have made her mother's hair curl. It wasn't as if anything had happened—last night he had been extremely upset by Godric's actions… She had to comfort him. They ended up heading back to her chambers to talk. And there she had changed into her night clothes, and he had just sat at her desk while they spoke of their plans for the school. And he ended up, somehow, asleep next to her.

"Sal," she whispered, poking him with her fingertips. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath. She poked him again. His eyes flickered open.

"Helga?" he wondered hoarsely.

"No, it's your mother," she said, rolling her eyes.

He sat up quickly, looking around. "What am I doing here?"

"You feel asleep down here,' she informed him, noting truly for the first time that there was much less than a foot between the two of them. She wanted to make it less, but coughed and slid away, standing up and heading toward her window instead.

"Right," he said, his eyes following hers. She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against the cold window. A flash flitted into her mind—Godric, holding his raven-haired daughter, laughing with his sons. His wife hooked on his arm, genuinely smiling. She wrinkled her forehead—Salazar was standing with her, their foreheads pressed together, his arms tight around her. She let the image continue, until their lips met and they started to kiss. Another flicker—Salazar riding away, on his onyx horse, barely looking back, save to spare her one last glance.

She knew her future ended in heartbreak. Distress made her unable to see past Salazar's leaving for both herself and for him. It was the point of no return, she feared, the point after which they would never see each other again. And perhaps that was why she was too scared to let the first image of the two of them come to be.

"What's wrong?" Salazar wondered. She heard him rise from her bed and walk up behind her. He was so close that she could lightly feel his breath on the back of her neck.

"Nothing," she murmured.

"I don't believe you, Helga," he said, touching her shoulder. She flinched at his touch, which rose goosebumps from her cream skin.

"Believe me," she whispered, pressing her entire cheek against the cool window.

He sighed gently and wrapped his arm around her, clearly out of his mind.

"What…" she said, instantly opening her eyes and jerking away from him.

"Helga…" he said. "Tell me what you see."

She shook her head. "No."

"Why not? Is it that horrible?" he wondered.

"It scares me," she murmured.

"But what is life without a little fear?" he questioned.

"You sound like Godric," she informed him.

"There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity," he said, shrugging gently.

"He's your best friend," she said.

"Yes, I know, but he has to be more rational, or he will get us all in trouble," Sal said, shaking his head.

"Why should we take chances?" she wondered. "Why can't things go without a problem?"

"Because," he said. "I know what you see, and I don't want you to stop it. And I don't want you to want to."

"Excuse me?"

"Helga, I see it in your face," he said. "You see an us. But you are too afraid of it, of something that happens afterward. But you've said yourself a million times, nothing is set in stone, so who is to say we cannot change it? If we only try?"

He held out his hand for her and she stared at it. Then she looked at his face. And then back at his hand.

"We can't have distractions," she mumbled, feeling her resolution waning.

"then we won't be distracted!" he said. "We could just… I… have fun? I'm not exactly certain what that entails, but I can't keep seeing you and not… acting on this."

"Fun?" she repeated the word. Then she glared at him. "I'm not a whore, Salazar."

He laughed. To her face. He threw his head back and let out an almost manic chuckle. "Helga, really, that was not what I was implying."

"Well I don't know how else men have fun with women," she scoffed.

"We could… spend a lot of time together, alone," he said.

"I'm not exactly sure that is proper… or conventional," she said, completely unsure of what his words implied.

"Helga," he said. "You ran away from your home to live with two grown men. Nothing about you is proper or conventional."

"I didn't run away!" she argued. "They let me go."

"With much protesting," he added.

"All the same… Conventionality? Not your strong point, Helga. No, I'm thinking, judging by the way you are dressed in front of me, is propriety."

She looked down and realized how revealing her nightdress was. Heat crept into her cheeks and she fumbled around for her dressing gown, pulling that on. He reached over and let the braid out of her hair.

"I like it better that way," he informed her.

She shook her head. "You're going to get us in trouble."

"Who is here to get us in trouble with? The Lion and the lady out there? I doubt it. They're as much in trouble as we are, even if she doesn't know it," he said.

She nodded, admitting.

"SO what do you see, Helga?" he wondered, stepping closer to her.

"I see… a girl," she said. "Red haired, you know, a strawberry honey color. And a dark haired man, more like a boy, can barely grow a beard yet."

"Oi—" he protested, but she cut him off.

"And she's scared, and he's a little too bold for her liking. But he's pensive too, in a good way, cunning. And she wouldn't mind if they… well… she's not so sure of the word… have _fun_ for a while. And see what happens."

He smiled at her, his typical Salazar smile. Like he'd always known he would win.

Secret-keeping was one of Salazar's many talents. Helga, her nose buried into the soft fabric of his deep pine colored cloak, was also quite good at secret-keeping. To avoid potential conflicts, it was Sal's idea to keep the "fun" a secret until they were sure of things, or until, at least, more of the school was underway.

At the moment, the fun consisted of nothing but her allowing him to put his arms around her, and for her to steal a quick, gentle kiss on the lips.

He could tell it was hard for her. She had been raised in a vassal family, with a strong sense of propriety. It had been her biggest qualm when making the decision to join Sal and Godric in bringing to life their plans for a school. Her magic family knew what a service she could be doing, but it was prominent, particularly to Salazar, who had a very good read of human emotion, that she had never been more torn in her life.

And now here she was in front of him, acting on emotions that had been screaming at her from the beginning- begging her to follow him into the unknown. Emotions that had almost made her stay home.

Sal almost laughed to himself. What would her parents say now, if they saw them. He knew that he didn't have the most docile-looking features of all of the eligible men in the world, but that was by choice. Reclusiveness was his preference and to retain it, sometimes an unappealing image was all a person needed. So his hair was long, his face scruffy. And that was how the world knew him.

He was almost certain Helga could see past it. Perhaps he needed to make sure though. After all, how much more reclusive could things get than living alone in a giant castle with three other people in the middle of nowhere Scotland. Perhaps a snake like image was not necessary anymore.

"Sal…" Helga said.

"Yes?" he said, stroking her hair gently with his fingers.

"When are you cutting your hair?"

That was what he got for kissing a seer.

He shrugged gently.

"It's going to look very nice," she informed him, reaching up to finger his long black locks.

"I'm glad you're going to like it," he said, wondering if he was going to spend the rest of his life answering to compliments on things he did in the future—he sincerely hoped so.

"Would you like me to do it for you?" she wondered.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt if it was done by someone who can see the back," he said.

She commanded him to sit in the chair behind her desk, and she brandished her wand once, starting to trim the sides. Sal watched as his hair fell in long tendrils onto the floor where they pooled like coiled snakes. He winced as he felt the air blow through the short hairs that shadowed the side of his head. It was the first time he'd felt hair there in a long time.

Helga's fingers brushed over the top of his head, combing through the hairs there. Her hand caressed his cheek, fingertips brushing against his skin, feather light and gentle. He couldn't help but smile to himself every time she leaned in closer to him and he got the faintest breath of her honey lemon smell. Among them many pluses of being a wizard, was the possibility for frequent baths. So Helga smelled fresh and perfect. Very summery. If a person could smell like a season.

"I think it's done," she said after a moment, brushing her fingers once more across the top of his head. He nodded, taking a deep breath. Beside him on the floor lay all of the locks of hair that once hung long and lank off of his head. He imagined himself looking better before he even saw it.

From thin air, Helga conjured up a mirror, which she held in front of him. He looked at himself, sighing deeply. He did look different, but that was most certainly to be expected. A greater portion of his face was visible now, without a shadow on it. And the clean silk texture was much more evident than it had been when it was hanging like rags off of the top of his head.

He flicked his wand at the floor, and his hair was Vanished. Helga smiled at him.

"Do you like it?" she wondered.

"I do," he said.

"And you're not just saying that to make me feel good?" she wondered.

"Never," he promised,

"Well that's always nice to hear," she said vanishing her mirror as well. He smiled gently at her and stood up again, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

"I'm glad you think so," he said. "Thank you for doing that. I probably would've backed out at the last moment."

"Promise me you won't regrow it," she ordered.

"I can do that. I promise I won't regrow it, Helga," he said. "I value my life too much."

She chuckled a little. "Oh Salazar. You know Godric will find this funny."

"All the more reason to wear it proudly," he said, laughing.

"You two are like an old married couple," she said, shaking her head.

"However you want to see it," he said. "We view it differently."

"I know, I know," she said. "Best friends that were born to be rivals."

"Exactly."


	8. Chapter 8

"This is exceedingly boring," Rowena declared, looking at what Helga had long-since taken to calling the "Great Hall." It was already decorated, because it was the place where all four houses were one. Four tables were stretched out long, with four banners flying above each. Each table sat under the Gryffindor banner, scarlet with a golden rampant lion, the emerald Slytherin banner with its silver serpent, the Ravnclaw crest emblazoned with a bronze raven on a blue background, and finally, Helga's family's banner, with its black badger on a field of yellow.

The four were quite certain they didn't want excessive divisions. The students would not be sepereeated for meals. The founders would each teach their own subjects, those they were strongest in. Every student would learn under each of them. There would be a selection however, a division in order to determine private studies in specific subjects, slightly random, but perhaps not as much as they would have hoped to think.

Still months before they hoped to open the school, this room was the subject of much devotion. As the gathering place for all members of the school, the women in particular felt it had to have certain sort of feeling to it when a person walked inside—like the magic there was so tangible and obvious, as soon as one crossed the threshold.

"It is boring," Godric agreed from where he was sitting on top of one of the tables, looking around the room. "Watching you two think, I mean. Why don't you just make a decision and get on with it already?"

"Why don't you close your mouth and go sit in a corner like a good boy?" Rowena replied tartly, still annoyed by his discovered peeping tom habits.

Salazar laughed, sitting on top of another table. He looked so drastically different with his hair short. Rowena hadn't actually recognized him when he first walked into the kitchens the morning he had it chopped. She had almost pulled out her want and confronted him in shock. She had to admit he cleaned up nicely. It made him look considerably less sinister than he had before. Now if only he could get his friend to clean up his act.

Rowena glowered gently and brandished her wand at the ceiling. With a single get of silver light, the sky was transformed into a perfect replica of the sky outside. A satisfied smirk spread across her face and Godric offered a round of obnoxious applause. Child.

"I like it!" Helga said, smiling brightly. "Goodness, you'll have to teach me how to do that."

Salazar offered another loud laugh from the other side of the Hall, causing Godric to turn and look at him.

"What are you, a child?" Godric said.

Helga crossed her arms. "Hello, pot, this is kettle. You're both black."

Salazar laughed again. Rowena expected firewhiskey. Ignoring them, she twirled her wand through her fingers, contemplating.

They had a goal. September. They wished to start in September, but they needed to recruit. While the details were still being hammered out, the need for students was almost more obvious. The men were contemplating setting off on a journey to find potential students, but something was keeping them from going, and Helga seemed to know what it was. Rowena, on the other hand, was more than willing to have Godric out of her hair for a while.

She needed time to get over his intrusion, and time was something he didn't seem all that fond of gifting. He wanted her acceptance of his apology, and was impatient. More impatient than anyone she had ever met, Including the three year old boy who lived nearby in her old village. And he was the impatience master.

So instead they were settling for an aggressive and unending exchange of snarky comments. And cold shoulders on her part.

It was summer, which had come as a shock. It led to a little more immodesty among the friends than would be typical of a normal Muggle society. Rowena didn't feel all that worried about the fact that her dress showed her entire neck and shoulders, and that she sometimes lifted it a little high order to coax up some sort of mysterious summer breeze. The only one she ever caught gaping was Godric. Salazar always seemed to be, no matter what was occurring, focused on Helga. He watched her like a mother watched her child the first time he ran an errand on his own.

In addition to other cooling efforts, they were perfecting cooling charms on each other, trying to make them last for entire days, as opposed to hours. It was nice that the school was so airy and open, made of naturally cool stone, and filled with comfortable shady shadows. However, unlike Salazar, Rowena was not content to spend her entire summer underground. She would've much rather spent it lolling by the lack, while scheming with her friends about the future of their school.

Plans were being scrawled out. They barely went an hour without tweaking an idea they had—elaborating, trimming, eliminating—or adding an entirely new idea altogether. They molded the grounds to their liking even more, expanding as far as they could before they intruded on another manor's land. The perfect school was in the works.

Helga flopped down onto a bench at one of the tables and closed her eyes in a state that Rowena had already come to recognize. When Helga closed her eyes and let out a puff of air, it usually meant she was seeing something she hadn't seen before, or that was proving to be very difficult to work out. This time, a smile broke out across her face and she nodded once, seemingly pleased with whatever was occurring in her eye. Salazar and Godric eagerly approached, both just as curious as Rowena was in terms of discovering what sort of turn of events had caused the upturn of their friend's lips.

"What is it?" Salazar asked eagerly, leaning forward on the balls of his feet.

"The trip you're taking!" Helga said. "You, Sal, are not taking it. It's the other two. Godric and Rowena will make the trip, and you and I will stay here."

Rowena raised a single eyebrow. "Since when is that happening?"

She hated traveling, for one thing. She didn't like staying in places if she didn't have a say in how they were kept up. She needed constant warm water, and the ability to be happy and showy with her powers, without getting asked to menial tasks.

But traveling with Godric would be an entirely new level of discomfort.

"Since apparently it's the way things should be happening," Helga informed her. Salazar was beaming; he loved this development. Of course. And Godric was happy. More time to pester Rowena for her acceptance of his apology. Which was really not something she was all that fond of. Because she didn't want to give him an apology.

"Wonderful," Rowena said acidly, staring at her Seer friend.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you," Helga said. "Really. But it looks like it's only going to take you a couple of weeks, if you apparate everywhere. You'll be back in no time." She closed her eyes again and smiled.

"What?" Salazar wondered.

"It's just going to work out very well," Helga said. "We're going to have a lot of students. So you have to go. If you don't we're not going to be as full as we could be."

Rowena huffed a sigh, and Godric continued to beam brightly. She shot him a glare and crossed her arms in front of herself. "Well I suppose I best go pack."

She turned on her heel and whisked from the room. Of course she was angry! This was one of the last things she had wanted to do. Here at their castle, she was more than happy. She liked being here, with her four friends—minus one if he was on her bad side—and she loved planning their future. It was a bright future, and she already knew that. She didn't want to make it dark by a couple of weeks of sure hell.

She was up in her tower in a matter of minutes, still without her own House-Elf. She began to take out some of her dresses and her secret weapons—they were male braies, pants so that she didn't get uncomfortable riding for long distances if they needed to. She began to back them into her bag, which was still retaining its undetectable expansion charm.

After a few moments of stressed packing, Helga was standing beside her.

"I have something to tell you," Helga said.

"Go right ahead, it can't be more stressful than having to wander the country side with dear Godric for the next couple of weeks."

"Things are going to work out," Helga said. "I looked, for your sake. He will behave himself—for the most part. Or at least as much as Godric is capable of. Which is more than he's been letting on lately. But he's wising up. I can see it. And you two will be all right."

'What do you mean by that?" Rowena wondered.

"You forget that important details are better left unknown," Helga said. "But I hope you don't worry all that much about this, because you two will come back from this as definite friends."

"He is my friend," Rowena argued.

"but you have a problem with him that you find very hard to resolve," Helga said.

"Of course I do," Rowena said. "He watched me swim while I was undressed. That constitutes a problem for me."

"Yes it does," Helga said. "Of course it does… But he is apologetic."

"He should not have done it in the first place," Rowena replied crossing her arms.

"You need to go into this trip with an open mind,' Helga suggested.

"I can try that," Rowena said, shrugging. "But I promise you, one day of _misbehavior, _one second of childish attitude, and I'm coming home."

"You won't have to worry about that," Helga said. "I can see that."

"All right," Rowena said, still a hint of an untrusting tone in her voice.

"Believe me," Helga said. "I see things, remember? I know what's going to happen."

"And yet you won't tell me any of it," Rowena grumbled, shooting her a pestered look.

"Like I've said to all of you far too many times—some things are better left unknown," Helga said.

"And yet you get to know it all," Rowena said.

"It's actually not as nice as you would think," Helga said. "Because I also get the disappointment of seeing when things change—when they won't work out. That's worse than not knowing what could've been at all."

"I know, I know," Rowena said. "You say this all the time. You're very cryptic, you know. It's quite frustrating."

"It works best for the situation," Helga replied, smiling gently. "I'm sorry that I have to be this way, Rowena. Really, I am. But I know from experience—within my own family—when things are better left a secret. My family used to do this to me all the time, beg me to tell them if their plans would work, or when they would lose someone they loved. When I was younger, I used to tell them, without thinking. And now I realize that this was a mistake. It created more problems than it was worth. So I kept my secrets instead—got a few angry cousins on my back because of it—but in general, life worked better that way. Big things are better left alone, because they are almost the most prone to change."

"This is a big thing?" Rowena questioned, pushing her hair away from her face in contemplation.

"Of course it is,' Helga said. "This is going to change all of our lives."

Rowena nodded.

"Especially yours,' Helga added, giving Rowena one obnoxiously tantalizing hint. "But you will be all right. You leave tomorrow morning at sun up."

"Right…" Rowena said, looking at her friend as she walked toward the door. Helga threw one last brilliant smile over her shoulder and closed the door behind herself


	9. Chapter 9

Salazar was sitting in his chambers, speaking to his oldest snake friend, when Helga found him. She didn't find the snakes to be either very attractive, or very repulsive. They were just a part of Salazar she accepted. He was gifted, and she would leave it alone. She was gifted as well. And there was no reason for her to frown upon his gift—and nor should anyone else.

"Hello, my love,' he said, when she appeared in the doorway. She wrapped her shawl more tightly around herself in the chill damp under the lake. Salazar flicked his wand quickly and a fire sprang to life in the fireplace beside him. His snake slithered away into the corner, dropping from his arm.

"Hello," she said, walking over and sitting in one of the more comfortable armchairs.

"What's wrong?" he said, instantly reading her face. He was so adept at reading her.

"I lied," she said.

"You what?" he wondered, pulling his chair closer to hers and taking her hand gently in his.

"I lied," she said. "I never saw Rowena and Godric setting off on this trip. Until after I suggested it."

He grinned at her. "Sneaky girl."

She blushed. "I just didn't want you to leave. And they need to work out their problems. I couldn't bear several weeks alone with Rowena fuming about him."

He laughed a little. "I'm glad you lied, I couldn't deal with Godric pining after her for that long either."

"I feel horrible," she said. "You know the whole 'use your powers for good instead of evil…' I'm evil."

He laughed again, more loudly this time. "you're not evil. You're probably the most good and pure of all of us."

She blushed again—it seemed to be her permanent color. "I'm withholding the truth and making up my own future."

"but it all works out this trip, doesn't it?" he questioned.

"Yes," she said. "Things are wonderful when they come back."

"What would've happened had it been Godric and I on the journey?" he wondered.

"You would've come home to find me dead, because I wouldn't have been able to stand Rowena, tried to duel her, and then she would've won," she explained, teasing.

He shook his head. "You like her more than you like to admit."

"She's extremely bright, and quite funny when she isn't angry at Godric," Helga said. "And it seems she is always angry at Godric."

"They're like children," Salazar said. "He feels he need to express his feelings for her by being a dunce. She retaliates in anger, refusing to accept her own feelings for him. He knew what he felt for her the first moment he laid eyes on her, and she knew it too. But she is much more reluctant to admit it. But then again, if I felt something more for Godric I would be hestitant to admit it too."

She smiled. "Good thing we're a little more eloquent with our expression."

He nodded. "That we are, my love."

She smiled brightly and squeezed his hand. She reached out and brushed her fingers through his hair."

"You're a wonderful woman, Helga," he said, leaning into her palm.

"Well thank you," she said, not exactly sure how to reply to that. He stood and pulled her out of her chair, before bending his head to kiss her, crushing his lips to hers. She let out a startled "Oh!" but quickly shushed herself and kissed him back.

Helga didn't feel very guilty at all the next morning as she watched Rowena and Godric walk off in exaggerated and dramatic silence together. Godric kept shooting quick glances at his silent companion, while she trained her gaze directly ahead of her, without acknowledging him.

"They desperately need to work their lives out," Helga declared, crossing her arms in front of herself.

"That was the point of this," Salazar agreed. While the two of them looked on, Rowena and Godric both turned pointedly on the spot and vanished quickly into thin air, with a crack that the other pair could hear from a good distance away.

"True," Helga agreed, laughing gently to herself.

The two of them turned and headed into the castle, ready to do their half of the work that was necessary to make Hogwarts hospitable come September. Which was going to be a challenge, as they were finding each other extremely distracting.

He slid his arm around her waist as they walked inside.

"It's so hot out," he complained, and Helga laughed. Salazar, who would've loved to just sit in the snow for a very long time, was not all that fond of summer heat. He was perpetually warm, no matter where he was.

"It's moderate," she informed him.

"Can we go swimming?" he said, smiling all of a sudden.

She smiled. "I'm a terrible swimmer, Salazar."

"I doubt it," he said. "I can help you. It will be fun."

"What would I wear?" she wondered.

"That's up to you. I'm sure you have something," he said.

"We have things we should be doing," she mumbled.

"Oh Helga," he said. "We have enough time for that."

She shook her head.

"What's really wrong?" he wondered.

"I can't swim at all," she muttered.

"Not at all?" he said, sounding shocked.

"Not a stroke," she whispered.

"Oh," he said. "Would you like to learn, love?"

She shrugged.

"Are you afraid to learn?" he wondered. Curse him. He could read her exceptionally well.

"Yes," she grumbled.

"Helga, would I let you get hurt?" he prompted. "Even look into the future. Will I let you drown?"

She closed her eyes and thought for a moment. "No."

"See?" he said.

"Now I need to see what I'm wearing, hang on," she said.

"Good," he said. "I'm sure you'll look beautiful."

"Right," she said. "Well let's go change, shall we?"

"Wonderful idea, darling," he said, leading the way down toward the kitchens and dungeons. "We're going to have fun."

"Fun," she repeated the word, feeling like he was using it far too much lately.

"I promise," he assured her.

Salazar looked at Helga, who had modified one of her nightgowns into an one piece bathing costume with pantlegs. Her hair was knotted up at the top of her head, gently. Of course she looked beautiful. He was standing in front of her in nothing but a pair of breeches. She blushed when she saw him, but that faded quickly.

"Are you nervous?" he asked her, taking her gently by the hand.

"A little,' she said, as they strolled down the lawn in the direction of the black lake. "How deep is this?"

"Mm very shallow up until a point where it drops off," Sal said.

"That's not ambiguous or anything," she muttered.

"It's not too deep. Don't worry," he said. "I'll be right next to you the entire time, Helga.'

She nodded.

"Are you afraid of the water or of swimming?" he asked.

"Swimming," she said. "The water isn't what worries me. It's relying on my own body to keep me up that is the scary part."

He nodded carefully. "All right. Let's see what I can do for you. I'm not a very good teacher, I'm sure."

"I'm sure you're better than you think you are," she said quietly as he, still holding her hand, waded into the shallows with her. He stopped when the surface waves were breaking very gently at the level of her navel.

"Not bad is it?" he checked. He personally found the water to be extremely warm, but he knew she wasn't as prone to being warm as he was. They had different judges of temperature.

"No, it's quite nice, actually," she said, smiling, and meeting his gaze. A wisp of her strawberry and honey hair blew free of the knot on her head. He caught it and tucked it behind her ear. She leaned gently into his palm as it brushed gently across her cheek. She smiled even more brightly.

"Good," he said, a little delayed. "Now, I'm just going to let your hand go for a moment, just to demonstrate." He dropped her hand and tipped backwards carefully until he was floating on top of the waves on his back, arms out to his side.

"You just need to sort of puff out your stomach, fill it with air. Take a deep breath, retain it," he instructed, standing back up straight. "All right. You're going to do this now, okay? I'll hold onto you. I won't let go until I think you're ready."

"Okay," she said, smiling strongly. He took her in his arms and tipped her slowly backwards so that she was lying across his arms.

"Take a deep breath," he instructed.

She obliged and continued to do so as he suggested she stick out her arms. He made sure she could feel his arms pressed into her back, so that she knew he was still holding her.

"You have the idea," he said. "Now I'm just going to pull my hands down gently. You will never fall lower than my hands are under the water. Don't worry."

"I'm not worried," she said. He dipped his hands down so that it was just her own self keeping her floating above the water. She was staring straight upwards, not afraid, apparently.

"Amazing job, Helga,' he awarded. She smiled a little again.

"You make me feel like a child," she said.

"I don't mean to," he said.

"I know you don't," she said. "It's sort of sweet in a strange way…"

"I just really want you to not be afraid," he said gently.

"But this can't be very fun for you," she protested.

"Oh no, it really is," he assured her, pulling her upright again so that she was standing in front of him. He makeshift swimming wear was clinging to her in a very revealing and quite improper fashion. He blushed, but she didn't seem to even notice.

"Now what?" she wondered.

He took both of her hands in his and started to tow her with him into deeper waters.

"Keep kicking, and obviously, keep your head above the water. I'll pull you around so you perhaps get a bit of a feelings as to what it's really like."

"All right," she said, keeping her fingers tight around his.

"Don't worry," he said, sure that he sounded like a broken record. He felt the gentle sandy bottom of the lake with his feet until he could feel the beginnings of the dramatic drop off. He steered them gently away from that so he didn't lose his footing.

"Kick your legs out behind you," he instructed. She did, and he pulled her slowly along so that he was moving backwards with her gliding gently through the crystal clear water.

"It's not so bad now, is it/" he wondered, continuing to smile at her. He couldn't help but smile when she was around him. She continued to smile back.

"No, I guess not," she said.

"Nothing to be afraid of," he said gently, squeezing her fingers.

Of course, speaking too soon was another habit of Salazar's. From off to the side, a long dark pink tentacle stretched out from the water, speckled thoroughly with suction cups. Salazar instantly drew Helga behind him, just in case. He cursed himself for leaving his wand back on the shore. Looking down Salazar saw Helga looked less afraid than she did curious.

"What do we do? Is it dangerous?" she wondered quietly.

"Do you know anything about it?" Sal wondered.

"I'm not the magical creature expert," she replied softly. "I thought that was your specialty."

"Giant squid are exceedingly rare," Salazar said, watching as a second tentacle broke the surface.

"Do you know anything about them?" she questioned.

"Very little," he admitted, trying to think back to his days of education with his father and grandfather, as they roamed the woods. Water beasts were not the top priority of the Slytherin family knowledge. But he remembered his grandmother saying something about squid in passing before her death. Something about their tentacles.

He stepped away from Helga, but she reached out and grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?'

"Testing a theory," he informed her, striding through the water. "Stay put."

He could almost hear her eyes rolling, and she proceeded to follow him closely, little more than a step behind him. The tentacles of the squid whipped through the air, more in order to cool than harm, Sal was thinking. He always seemed to have a way with creatures, something he couldn't avoid. He knew what they were hoping to do, what their intentions were. It was something in the way the tentacles were moving that had him almost convinced.

He reached up and grabbed one of the tentacles, grabbing it from thin air. He proceeded then to brush his fingers around the pale underside of the tentacles. Suddenly they were still, and were appreciating the tickling. Salazar started laughing.

"What's going on?" Helga wondered.

"it's just sunning itself," Sal replied. "It's ticklish. Once you do this, you'll be its friend forever."

Helga laughed and joined him in stroking the tentacles. He put his arm around her waist and the two of them continued to laugh heartily.


	10. Chapter 10

When Godric and Rowena reappeared, they were in the heart of England. Godric was smiling gently to himself, happy to be standing where he was.

"Where are we again?" Rowena wondered, crossing her arms. The summer air weighed like a thick cloak draped over their shoulders. She reached behind her head to twist her hair up and off of the back of her neck.

"My home," Godric replied.

"How is this recruiting again?" Rowena questioned.

"I have many cousins," Godric said.

"Oh wonderful. Our school is going to be overrun with Gryffindors," she muttered under her breath.

He shook his head. "I'm the only one of my generation with this name. My father had no brothers, only sisters."

She rolled her eyes. "Not what I meant, Godric."

They walked through the field that was bright with succulent summer grass, and wildflowers that stretched up their pale heads toward the sun. Rowena was focused on the massive manor house in front of her, stretching up tall, almost like a castle.

"This is your home?" she wondered.

"Yes," he said.

"Are you the heir to some estate?" she questioned.

Godric shook his head.

"But you're the eldest, aren't you?" she said.

"Yes," he said. "I have a younger sister."

"Then it's rightfully yours," she said.

"I don't want it," he said simply. "It'll go to my brother in law instead."

Rowena was silent for a moment. The two of them continued walking. "Is your family magic?"

"Yes," he said as they approached the manor's gate. When they reached it, he flicked his wand in a strange pattern, and the iron slid backwards, parting in the middle. They walked down the dirt path that led up to the front door of the manor. Rowena had to hold her skirt up to keep it from dragging in the dust that was much drier due to the summer heat.

When Godric approached the front door of the manor house, he just pulled heavily on the giant handle and it swung toward them. He led the way inside, with Rowena, swishing in her dress, behind him.

"Who's that?" someone yelled loudly, causing the sound to echo off of the stone of every wall of the manor's giant entrance hall. It was entirely slate and marble, everything gleamed. The ceiling stretched extremely high, ending with a massive glimmering chandelier. Rowena had seen a manor house before, lived in one for a week, in fact, and it had most certainly not been as extravagant as this was. Here the walls shone and glistened, everything was done to the extreme. Rowena credited to magic, but was still quite overwhelmed.

Suddenly a more-than middle-aged woman, who would've been long since dead had she not had magical blood, appeared at the top of the massive stone staircase in front of Godric and Rowena.

"Godric!" the woman cheered, starting to rush down the stairs.

"Mother!' Godric replied, giving the woman a tight hug. "Mother, this is my friend, Lady Rowena Ravenclaw. She is working on the school with Salazar, Helga and me. Rowena, this is Lady Melody Gryffindor, my mother."

"So pleased to make your acquaintance," Rowena said, extending her hand.

"Yes," Melody Gryffindor said. "You as well. Ravenclaw? I have never heard of you."

"I hail from Scotland," Rowena informed her.

Melody nodded. "Wonderful, wonderful. Come in, come in the two of you. I don't know where our elves have gotten to… ah well."

As if appearing out of nowhere, and elf began to relieve Rowena of her cloak, and did the same for Godric. The pair followed Lady Gryffindor through the massive manner's hallways until they came out in a big parlor area, where a woman with vibrant red hair, like Godric's, sat on a sofa with a man a few years her senior. Another man, considerably older, with the same red hair streaked with gray, sat in a massive armchair by the fire.

"Look at what I found in the hallway," Melody cheered to the room.

The younger woman beamed. "Godric! What a surprise!"

She bounced up from her place on the sofa and ran forward to hug Godric around the middle. He laughed and patted her on the back.

"Rowena, this is my sister, Evangeline, her husband Rolf, and my father, Reginald Gryffindor. Father, Eva, Rolf, this is Lady Rowena Ravenclaw, of Scotland. She is working with me at the moment."

"Shame on you, Godric, for travelling alone with a woman. Hardly proper," Evangeline scolded him, but she was laughing. She sat back down on the couch, and drew a very pale sandy-colored wand, which she used to duplicate the sofa she was perched on so that another appeared for Rowena and Godric.

Reginald Gryffindor rose from his massive red arm chair and walked over to Rowena. He took her hand gently and kissed it once.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Ravenclaw," he said in a deep rumbling voice—much lower than Godric's. "You must have a lot of patience to deal with my son's pigheaded actions for any length of time.'

Rowena was fairly certain patient was not a word that accurately described her.

"Rowena and I are very similar people," Godric said. "Which, while making it exceedingly difficult for the two of us to get along, helps us remain in each other's presence."

Rowena hadn't thought of it that way. She sincerely hoped that she didn't share many traits with Godric. She knew she had many vices: she was impatient, haughty, stubborn, self-absorbed, and quite the image of overwhelming self-pity, but she didn't want to clump herself with the likes of Gryffindor. He was impulsive and jumpy, obnoxious, obsessive, and unyielding.

And yet, he almost had a point. The two of them were so riddled with vices that it was hard to even bear each other's presence—that much negative in one room had to create a problem in the atmosphere. But then again, they were in definite acceptance of their own flaws, and happy to share in them with others. They were similar. It was a hard fact to learn, but it was true.

"This young woman is similar to you?" Reginald demanded. "I find that to be quite unlikely, Godric. She, I'm certain, just by looking at her, doesn't have a thoughtless bone in her body."

"She is exceedingly superior to me in terms of intellect," Godric allowed. Rowena smiled in a fashion she hoped was modestly.

It was a strange sight for Godric to see Rowena sitting at his family's table. She sort of stuck out, in her blue dress, but not because she was akward—just because sitting between an older woman, and Godric's brother-in-law, she looked positively gorgeous.

If she didn't keep shooting him daggers with her eyes, it would be much more awe-inspiring.

Evangeline seemed to be having a hard time keeping a straight face. On Godric's right, she was the only one who had the ability to see the glares coming from Rowena's side of the table. And she most certainly was seeing them—and getting quite the kick out of it as well. It was all Godric could do to remember that they weren't children again, and to keep himself from aiming a kick and her under the table.

On the third giggle from Evangeline, Rolf smiled. "What's going on over there?"

"Oh nothing, darling," Evangleline said. "It's just… well… Rowena makes the most amusing faces.'

Rowena froze. "What face? I'm making faces?"

"I'm fairly certain she doesn't like our Godric as much as he'd like us to think," Eva pointed out.

"Oh thank you so much, Evangeline, that was just what I needed, "Godric muttered under his breath, before looking up into the expectant eyes of the rest of his family. Rowena had a slight smile on her face.

"It's not that I don't like him," Rowena said. "He's a very good friend. But he's a bit of a nuisance. And astonishingly persistent."

"How so?" Godric's father questioned. Godric locked eyes with Rowena and hoped to convey that the dinner table was not at all the place to relay the information of his inappropriate spying habits.

"If he does something to offend you, and then apologizes, if you don't instantly accept his apology, it could go on for weeks," Rowena said.

"I know that one," Evangeline said.

"Well, Rowena, perhaps you're just stubborn," Godric offered.

"Godric, that is a guest you are speaking too," his mother said, sounding appalled.

"Godric and I know each other far too well to be guest, madam," Rowena said. "If you'll forgive me."

"It's not you that I am offended by, my dear, it is my son!"

Godric looked at his mother, meeting her gaze. She had the same eyes as him, dark, emerald, brilliant green. But they were painful to look at. She was definitely glaring at him. In fact, it was her eyes he tried to emulate when he was angry—they could instill fear in anyone from opposite ends of a massive banquet table.

"You should apologize," she suggested to him as if he were a child.

He took a deep breath and looked at Rowena. "I'm sorry, Rowena, forgive me."

Rowena looked between him and his mother. "If I had known it was that easy, I would have brought him home long before this. I forgive you, Godric."

"See, was that hard?" he demanded before he could stop himself.

Evangeline burst out laughing. Rowena smiled too, but the Gryffindor Lord and Lady looked ready to throttle their son. Rolf was indifferent.

"Oh lord, we raised an imbecile," Melody sighed, putting her head in her hands.

Rowena shook her head. "You raised one of the most powerful wizards in the world, Lady Gryffindor. He is perhaps the most skilled duelist in Britain… Power comes with a price—it comes with an ego. I have one, he has one."

"We raised him better than this," Lady Gryffindor protested while Godric looked on in silence. "We did not raise him to have bickering matches with a Lady at our table. We knew he was talented from a young age—when he first got his wand, I would've sworn he was performing magic I hadn't performed until I was twenty. But that doesn't mean he has a right to talk to you like that.'

"Godric and I have a very casual, friendly relationship," Rowena insisted. "It comes with the territory. Living alone with three other people means bickering is a frequent addition to our conversations, it means we kid with each other more often than others do."

"It means that impropriety takes precedence over propriety," Godric further explained.

His mother shook her head. "that's wonderful."

"We're all very close, mother,' Godric said.

"Are you close enough to allow him to speak with you in such a manner?" Godric's father demanded.

"He's Godric," Rowena said. "You take what he has to say for what it's worth."

Evangeline laughed again, shaking her mane of hair from side to side in utter amusement. Godric debated kicking her again.

"Godric, are you sure this school of yours is a good idea? You seem to be living like children," Melody said.

"Oh it's a wonderful idea,' Godric said. "We intend to start in September, Rowena and I are out recruiting students now."

His father nodded. "So you aren't coming back?"

"I don't intend to," Godric replied. He noticed Rolf smile out of the corner of his eye.

His father sighed and stood up from the table. "Excuse me."

After silence ensued and pressed in upon the table like a weight, Lady Gryffindor cleared her throat delicately.

"Let's continue with dinner, shall we?" she offered, clapping her hands twice. Three house-elves appeared and swept the plates away, and more appeared carrying the next platters of food. Godric nodded and they all continued their meal in a tight silence. Evangeline didn't laugh or even crack a smile. All of them remained focused on the food in front of them—cutting, biting, swallowing, repeat. Godric sighed.

He just wondered how after all he'd done, how he could still be a disappointment.


	11. Chapter 11

"We have a problem," Helga declared, stomping into Salazar's room at all hours of the morning. He was barely blinking his eyes open when she had flicked her wand and the room was illuminated with light far too bright for someone half asleep, and, in general, much more fond of the dark.

He sat up straight, groaning and keeping his eyes shielded with his hand. "We have a problem? What's the problem?"

"This castle is far too big," she complained, flopping, already fully, pristinely dressed, onto the foot of his bed.

"That's sort of necessary, love," he said. "We're going to fill it with a lot of students.'

"Yes, but then there's the problem," she said. "How are we going to keep it clean? With three house-elves? That's hardly logical? And when we have all of these students, who on earth will cook for them? Again, certainly not our house-elves."

Salazar sighed. She had a very good point, actually. But that was Helga. She always discovered the really good points. And then she proceeded to dwell on them until the matter was resolved. But it was endearing.

"We get more house-elves," Sal recommended.

"How do we do that?" she said, making a face. Salazar knew she wasn't all that fond of the concept of elf enslavement—and nor was he for that matter—but she treated her elf with the utmost respect. Salazar too did not completely agree with the magic that had been imposed on elves, some several years prior to the reign of Charlemagne, when the world was in chaos and people needed all the help they could find. "Is there like breeder or something around?"

Salazar laughed gently. "You nailed it on the head, love. Yes. There are… I wouldn't go as far to call them breeders… but there are places where you can find entire castles full of house-elves up for…. Adoption?"

"Adoption?" Helga said. "Enslavement perhaps would be the better word."

"We treat ours very well," Sal said. "And beside, the people that… raise them treat them well too. The ones I know at least."

"Can we get enough elves from them to clean and feed the entire school?" she wondered.

He thought for a moment. "We can get around fifty. They'll mate. We'll be fine. They have some maddening magic that will help them maintain their typical routines, do their typical tasks."

She sighed. "Fine."

"It's not, perhaps, the best way, but they really do enjoy it, love, I promise you," he assured her.

"Yes, because they know nothing else," Helga said, crossing her arms.

"It's a school for children, not elves, I hate to say," Salazar muttered.

"You hate children," Helga finished.

"Hate is a strong word," Sal said, leaning back on his pillows. She slid on top of his bed covers until she was leaning against his shoulder, and the pillows behind him.

"But you don't really care for them that much," she said, twisting her fingers around in his until they were locked tightly.

He shrugged. "I haven't been around them all that much. And I'll have you know, the experiences I had were not all that wonderful."

"They're not all bad," she murmured, looking at their hands clasped in between them.

I'm sure they're not," he agreed. "But I shall need an example."

'Our child won't be that awful," she said.

He froze. "Our child?"

"That thought scares you," she murmured.

"Well… yes," he said.

"Well I can tell you, as of yet, it happens, Salazar," she said. "A boy, by the way."

"So this…" he said gently, lifting their hands. "This continues?"

"Yes," she said.

"Isn't it strange to have someone know almost everything that is to come," he said, trailing off gently.

She grimaced. "I knew you would not be happy to hear this. You know nothing is set in stone, you can change it."

"Look into your head, Helga, do you see me changing it?" he whispered, his breath tickling her cheek.

She closed her eyes and dug deep into her brain, into the fogginess that was the future. A smile crossed her face.

"We're having a girl now too," she declared. "At least…"

He laughed. "All right then. So I assume, in this future that is all but set in stone, that we are married?"

"Of course! What would our mothers say?" she said, laughing.

"Very true," he agreed. "Very true indeed. And when, exactly, my dear, is this coming about?"

She screwed up her face in concentration, digging deeply back through the flickers she had, until she found the time marker, heard the words that would let her know when everything was happening."

"Our boy is born a little more than a year from now," she informed him.

"Interesting," he said. "So we are married three months from now?"

"Well… give or take a little?" she said, looking up at him sheepishly. "Five months from now? Or six?"

"Well, well, aren't we very naughty then?" he said, bursting into laughter.

"Don't get any of those ideas in your head, Sal," she said, shaking her head viciously. "I'm not that sort of maid."

"Ah but clearly you are," he said, leaning his head down to kiss behind her ear. He let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her gently, so that they were nearly front to front. He kissed her forehead, and she closed her eyes. He kissed her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks, before finally resting gently and carefully, as if he was somehow afraid of offending or breaking her, on her lips.

Her hands acted of their own accord, braiding themselves into his ebony hair, which was still short, and fluffy soft, like a baby bird's downy coat. He drew her closer to him with a hand that rested at the small of her back, pressing inward.

"Mm," she said, kissing him several times. "Perhaps I'm a little forward, but I know more about you than you probably wish, and I know how this story ends Sal. I love you."

"I love you too, Helga," he whispered, kissing her once more.

Salazar was not the love type. It was not one of those emotions that regularly passed through his body. From a young age, he'd been very much the introvert, introspective, and content with solitude. As coarse as it might have seemed he viewed his family as people he had a very strong connection too—but he always thought it was more a friendly connection. It wasn't the fabled love. He felt the same about his father as he did about Godric, his best friend from birth.

But then there was Helga. The very first time he met her, was some time before the school idea had flooded Godric's head with visions of grandeur. But he had been quite intrigued. She was quite the seer, and he was always very impressed. The ability drew him in, until he was nearly enthralled with her. Her attractiveness was certainly not a factor that worked to shove him away either.

And now, he was certain that there was something more to that. A physical magnetism—the world just, perhaps, knew they were supposed to be together. And so they were. The range and flood of emotions he felt for her was extreme, beyond any that he had felt before. There was just something so wonderful about her. Something so attractive.

She was still in his arms—fully clothed, to whom it may concern—still kissing him. The problem with sending Rowena and Godric away on their own little journey was that Salazar and Helga's list of things to do was getting shoved from their minds by their strong attraction for each other. But at this point, House-elves were gone from his mind, and he hoped they were gone from hers as well.

"Are you hungry?" she asked all of a sudden, breaking her lips away from his. He continued to kiss her jaw and her neck while she wondered.

"Not right now," he said.

"Oh…" she said, kissing his face too until they were kissing each other's lips again. Salazar had a feeling that this was going to be distracting him for the rest of his life.

He laughed a little and rolled onto his back so that she was on top of him, kissing him.

"Mm," she said. "I love you."

"You've said," he said, laughing.

"I know," she said. "But it's nice to just know it. Don't you like hearing it?"

"Yes I do," he said. "Most certainly. I love you too Helga, I really do."

"I'm glad," she said. "it would be awfully awkward if you didn't."

He laughed and she rested her head on his chest. He stroked her hair gently, running his fingers through the brilliant strawberry silk. Sal smiled contently to himself. He was just happy to be where he was—where she was.

They weren't perfect—she wasn't, and he certainly wasn't—but they did a pretty good job of cancelling each other out and brining out the best in the other. She certainly brought out his less coarse features. He wasn't as sarcastic with her, as he was with Rowena and Godric. He had a softer side with Helga, a more romantic and gentler side. When he was around her, he didn't constantly feel that wave of stress crashing over him that his other friends—namely Godric—seemed to always provide for him.

"So we have to get an army of House-elves," she said.

"Yes we do," he agreed, brushing his fingers across her cheek. "That shouldn't be too difficult."

"How much do they cost, do you know?" she wondered.

"Not anything we don't have,' he said.

"True," she said. All four of the friends had their own sort of high blood background. While Rowena's parents were vassals, Salazar and Godric both had lords as their fathers, one of whom desperately wanted his son to remain at home, and the other, Salazar's father, had all but shoved him out the door when he got wind of Godric's things in the magical world were better than good things in the muggle world. Rowena's marriage to a lord had given her higher status had she chosen to keep it and not disappear for good.

Helga too was of high status. While she had no "lady" in front of her name, her family was riddled with wealth, much of which her father had bequeathed to her when he realized he could not stop her from leaving. That definitely had its benefits.

"I wonder how Godric and Rowena are surviving…" Helga murmured.

"Would you like to take bets on which of them will come back alive?" he wondered.

"Would you really bet against me?" Helga asked, laughing.

"Oh that is an extremely valid point," he said, joining her laughter. "Why don't you tell me who comes back alive?"

"Both of them," she said.

"Both, huh?" he said. "Any limbs growing from the wrong places? Rearranged eyeballs?"

"You'll have to see," she said.

"It's not very nice of you to keep secrets from your future husband," he teased her.

She smiled. "I'd learn to live with it, Sal. Keeping secrets is always the better option than disclosing everything. I think you should know that about me now. I don't like disclosing my secrets. Because they cause more harm than they do good. I could change everyone's lives with one thing I say… and then vision would probably change and they'd be living in wait for that one that would never come. It's all too complicated."

Sal laughed. "I'll take your word for it, love. I wouldn't know anything about it."

"That's why you should leave the seeing and all of the meddling that comes along with it, up to me," she said.

"I think I can do that,' he said. "I might just ask you to read my future every once in a while."

"And that's all right," she said. "it's easy, because most of it overlaps with mine."


	12. Chapter 12

_**Author's Note: Please let me know if you are enjoying this! I love to hear what everyone has to say. This is my first fic that I focused on, and I have a ton of chapters written, I'm just more focused on updating another one at the moment. Thanks!**_

It was the middle of the night when Rowena heard voices. Shouting echoed up the stairs of the Gryffindor manor house, bouncing off the stone walls and shuddering past the rooms. An unusually light sleeper, Rowena woke quickly to the noises.

Curiosity, whether a virtue or a vice, got the better of her. Wrapping herself up tightly in a dressing gown, she held her wand aloft, she tiptoed out of the guest room into the cold hallway. She tried to be very quiet as she reached the top of the big sweeping staircase. The voices were drifting up from the floor below, echoing loudly. Rowena was in awe that the rest of the house couldn't hear them just as well as she could. Then again, her senses had always been acute.

When she reached the base of the stairs, she craned her head gently around the corner in the direction of the shouting match. Things were getting heated. In a house like this, she was surprised, for one thing. And then she was worried that it would progress to dueling. The talent levels were high here, but Godric was above it all.

And it did seem to be Godric's voice that was carrying the most. The lower voice of Reginald Gryffindor cascaded off the walls as well, more aggressive than his son's, but perhaps not as loud and determined.

"You are the heir!" Reginald growled in his deep rumble of a voice.

"I understand that!" Godric said.

"You clearly do not!" Reginald returned. Rowena took several more steps, careful to remain in the shadows. An orange glow from a fireplace cast shadows on the wall—Godric's lean and towering figure, with it's broad shoulders, and young, boyish, not quite filled out middle; Reginald's form, the shorter, somewhat broader, heftier one, standing under the towering form of his heir. A confrontation, clearly, at all hours of the night.

"I do!" Godric said. "But Father… this is not for me. I'm not the Lord, Earl, sort. I'm talented, Father. Vain as it may sound, I'm talented. What is the purpose of me standing over a bunch of lowly peasants and ungrateful vassals? Why should I not share my talents with the rest of the world so that we can all be greater together. It's for the greater good, Father. It's not about me, or our past qualms."

The head of Reginald's shadow shook back and forth. "Yes it is! You know it is about the past! You chose to dishonor me because I used to shrink your head, Godric. You are arrogant and vain. And I told you so over and over again. You expect everyone to lay down for you, to lay down and let you make your choices. But I won't have it."

"You cannot stop me, Father," Godric said. "There is no reason I shouldn't make my own decisions. I'm a grown man. I do not choose the path you believe I should."

Reginald's hands balled into fists. Rowena pressed herself further into the shadows, the cool stone of the walls chilling her through her clothes.

"You have a duty!" Reginald shouted. "This is your house, Godric. It does not belong to him. He does not deserve it. He does not bear the Gryffindor name proudly. The Gryffindor Manor will no longer be such if you do not take it. What will happen to my line?"

"You will still have a line," Godric said. "My seer friend says so. I will have three children, two boys and a girl."

Reginald continued to shake his head. "Seers are unreliable."

"She is the most reliable one I have ever met," Godric declared. "She knows most of the future and she knows it well."

Reginald said, "So you have a wife in this future I assume? Who is it now, this Ravenclaw woman? I have no idea who she is? Noble birth I wonder?"

"Father, Rowena is more than worthy. You've seen her intelligence," Godric said. "But do not worry. She does not return any affection I have for her."

"That is no one's fault but your own!" Reginald cried, his voice gaining volume again.

Godric heaved a sigh, and Rowena stepped backward, heading toward the stairs. She took them slowly, each step, careful not to make loud noises. She ventured that her intrusion would not be welcome, in the eyes of both of the men.

Stepping slowly into her room again, she closed the door most of the way and sat in one of the chairs, waiting. The argument was not articulated from here, but its occurance was quite obvious. The raised voices continued for some time, with Rowena listening patiently. She was not bored, nor was she tired. She was just curious.

When the argument subsided, until all she could hear was a murmured and garbled conversation, she readied herself. The first to pass her room was Reginald, and after some time Godric still was not slipping by. Rowena rose from her chair, pulling the door open and heading back in the direction she had come from some fifteen minutes before. Again, she descended the stairs. This time, however, she continued toward the room lit by the orange fireplace glow.

When she reached it, she found Godric sitting in a chair in front of the fire, a tankard of something in one hand, his chin in the other.

"Godric," she murmured, walking further into the room. He turned his head ever so slightly upon her approach, and nearly grunted her reply.

"Are you all right?" she wondered, waving her wand and conjuring up a comfortable, low-backed armchair.

"I'm fine," he said, shaking his head and taking it out of his hands. He leaned back in the chair, staring at the Gryffindor coat of arms hanging above the fireplace.

"No you're not," she said, reaching out and touching his arm with her hand. He wrenched his arm away, giving her a distasteful look.

"It's really not your place," he said, shaking his head and crossing his arms.

"Mm," she said. "But you're my friend. I worry."

He looked to the side at her. "Your friend, eh? That's a new one. Since when did that happen?"

"It's been a while now," she said. "Didn't you realize?"

'I thought you hated me," he said.

"I only was mad at you for looking at me while I was swimming," she replied.

"Mm," he said. "Really?"

"Yes," she said. "You're a nice man, Godric Gryffindor."

"At least someone recognizes it," he said, laughing lightly.

"We're a vain old pair, now aren't we?"

"Yes we are," he agreed, "But that's only because we're extremely talented. And it's impossible not to know that in ourselves."

"Helga and Salazar seem to do all right," she commented.

"That's because they're Helga and Salazar. She is the kindest person to ever roam the earth, and Sal is the most introverted person I have ever met. He really doesn't care what others think of him, he's proud of himself, but not proud enough to gloat."

"They'd make a charming couple," she said. "You wouldn't think of it, as they are very different people—she is very bright and cheery and he is very… well not bright and cheery. I wouldn't say dark and depressed though… Yes, that would be strange to see… And yet, it makes quite a bit of sense to me."

"It will happen eventually," Godric said. "How could it not?'

"Excellent point," she said, smiling.

Godric looked to the side at Rowena. She was still gazing into the fire, as they both had been for the past hour after their conversation subsided. She didn't seem tired, or at all uncomfortable. She was sitting proud and tall in her armchair, looking forward. The fire turned her face orange and yellow, flickering in her blue eyes and dancing off of her ebony hair.

He hoped she didn't realize he was watching her. It was becoming a dangerous habit. But it was impossible to stop himself. She was in such close proximity—how easy it would be to reach out and touch her, to gaze her cheek with his fingertip.

She was sweet. Flawed—almost certainly. She was an extremely selfish human, he could tell. But then again, so was he. He had asked her to abandon her entire life, her child, for him. Selfish. And then she had done it. Equally selfish.

He wondered if she regretted it. If she did, she didn't say it. She wouldn't bring it up. That made sense to him. He wouldn't want to share it either. She was happy to be where she was, according to Helga. And that was that.

Absentmindedly, she reached up and began to wind her curls around her fingers. In silent contemplation, she rolled her lips in and out. He could only hope to be able to read her mind, to know exactly what she was thinking. But that was impossible.

So he would wait. Why he was so taken with her, he did not know, but he was. It was one of those irrevocable things, he could tell. A heart-stopping, life-changing, slap. Poor Rowena. She had no idea what she'd done to him.

Suddenly, she seemed to feel his gaze on her. Her cheeks ran through with rose blush, and she looked to th left at him.

"Yes?" she said.

"Mm, nothing," he said, shaking his head.

"Right," she said. "Godric…"

"I understand, it's somewhat strange the way I look at you,' he said. "But I honestly cannot stop myself, Rowena. You are positively radiant."

She blushed and even deeper shade. "Godric, really."

"I swear it," he said. "I really do."

"Rowena, I understand that you don't feel that way about me in return, I understand," he said. "but you cannot deny me the pleasure of looking at you."

"Godric, you are a very strong personality," she said.

"I realize," he assured her.

"but I don't find you as repulsive as you seem to think I do,' she said. "I find us to be very similar people, which may be some of the reason we have a hard time sincerely getting along—as we usually have a very hard stock in our own opinions and will relent for very little."

"Which is usually a problem," he agreed.

"But like I said, you're not as repulsive as you seem to think," she said.

He laughed a little. "What does that mean, really, Rowena? How do you genuinely feel about me?"

"I feel like we need time to work things out," she said.

"I can do time," he said. 'I can wait patiently."

"You're patient?" she said. "You really could have fooled me, Godric."

"Well… perhaps I should rephrase. I can attempt to wait patiently, Rowena, but I will not wait forever," he replied strictly, crossing his arms.

She laughed. "Good. I'm glad you can give it your best shot. Let us get through the recruit, shall we? We can figure things out from there. We just have to see how many amazing students we can find to fill our school. And then we'll go back and prepare ourselves to teach all of them."

"That, I feel, sounds like a wonderful plan," he said.

"We're going to have it all, you know," she said. 'Everything we could possibly dream of having. A school, Godric. Who would've thought that someone as self-involved as you would be eager to create a school in order teach others."

He laughed. "I choose to take as much of a compliment from that as I can and cast away the other words that surrounded the kind meaning."

She laughed gently. "Do what you will."

"But yes," he said. "A school. We will have it all. The four of us. Because we are united. Our school is four in one, one in four, inseparable."

"Together we will build and teach!" she said. "Never to be divided."

"Four pillars of our noble school," Godric said. "Our wonderful, noble school."

"Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," Rowena said simply. "Four."


	13. Chapter 13

Helga and Salazar walked away from the kitchen, somewhat proud grins on their faces. They now had an army of houseelves at their command, including one that Helga handpicked to attend to Rowena individually. It had been a fairly painless, though not cheap, experience. It was nice to know that all of the stressful upkeep was now left to a hundred pairs of tiny hands, as opposed to four pairs of regular, surprisingly less capable hands.

Salazar wrapped his arm around her waist, quickly pressing his nose into her neck, kissing her gently.

"You're so beautiful," he informed her. She smiled gently.

"Thank you,' she murmured.

"You do not have to say thank you all of the time," he informed her.

"But I feel like I do,' she said.

"You shouldn't," he said. "You should be used to it. Because you are so beautiful."

She blushed again, leaning into his side. "You're so kind, Sal. And so you know, you're not ugly either."

He laughed at her wording. "Always nice to hear, my love, always."

"Good,' she said, smiling up at him. He leaned his head down and kissed her on the lips gently.

It had been several days since Rowena and Godric set off on their trip. Helga and Salazar couldn't deny they were enjoying their time alone in the castle. It was sort of nice to have it all alone to themselves.

Their gently kiss morphed, as usual, into something a little more aggressive and passionate. It wasn't very long until she was in a very narrow space between him and the cold stone wall of the castle. She was no longer protesting and he was no longer being cautious. Their proclamations of love, and her constant reassurances that the future was not changing at all led them to live in the spirit of "whatever will happen will happen from this point forth."

She wound her arms around him tightly and braided her fingers tightly into his hair. He had his hands on her neck and waist, drifting down her back.

"I love you too much," he said.

"What on earth does that mean?" she wondered, breathless as they came up for air.

"That means that dear lord, love, this could be very interesting very quickly," he replied, kissing her visible collarbone. She kissed his neck and closed her eyes, giving in completely. There was no reason not to. She closed her eyes and had a very… _interesting _vision of the very near future. It didn't scare her. If anything it made her kiss him even more desperately—besides, she knew no serious repercussions would occur roughly three months from that point. She might as well prepare herself.

Helga woke up with her head on his chest, her hair strewn around her like a fan. He was pulling his fingers through it.

"You're up," he murmured, pulling her up so that she was leaning against his pillows with him.

"Yes," she said squishing closer to him.

"How are you?" he wondered, stroking her cheek.

"I'm perfect," she said.

"That's wonderful," he said, kissing her forehead.

"I'm so…" she trailed of, looking for the world. "Well… I love you. You know that."

"Yes I do," he said. "And I love you too, Helga."

"I'm so happy to be here," she said. "To be… here at the school, to be here in your room, with you."

"Good," he said. "I'm so happy too, Helga. SO happy. you have no idea how perfect you are—for me, I mean. And how we really are great together."

"I have an idea of how perfect you are for me," she replied. "I feel like we balance each other out. We are opposites but—"

"Not," he finished. "I agree. Opposites at first, but not quite."

"This is wonderful," she said, reaching up and touching his face. He leaned into her palm, turning his face gently to kiss it.

"I really is,' he agreed, smiling brightly. "Bok?"

There was a crack and Salazar's personal house-elf appeared.

"Yes Master?" the elf bowed low.

"Could you and Opie bring us tea and biscuits, please, Bok?" Salazar said. The elf bowed and disappeared again. Helga laughed a little.

"I'm sorry, love, I'm just exceedingly hungry," he said. She laughed a little more loudly and wrapped her arms around his middle, kissing his chest several times. He began to gently comb his fingers through her hair.

"Our school needs a name," she said.

"We should wait until Godric and Rowena get back for that," he said. "And a motto."

"I suppose we should," she agreed.

"That should be fun," he said. 'Godric will want to call it Gryffindor School, because it was his idea, but I'm quite prepared to put a stop to that with my wand if need be."

"I'll help you," she said. "He may be a master dueler, but I think we'd be able to stop him. For instance, I can exhaust myself and hone all of my seeing in on the very near future and pick out everyone of his spells before he uses them."

He chuckled and smiled at her.

She sighed loftily. It was perfect. There was nothing more to it. This was working out magnificently. It was impossible not to smile. Her eyes drifted closed for a moment as she peered eagerly into the future. Then she gasped in slight shock.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Things keep changing," she replied.

"Like what?" he wondered.

""Our wedding date. It's closer now," she said. "We should set it in stone so that the rest of the future isn't drifting around it in chaos. This will solidify other things, though no promises can be made."

"All right," he said. "When is the date in your mind?"

"Three months from today," she replied.

"There it is then," he said. "I know time is poorly kept, but what is the date, love, so I can write it down so we are sure."

"August thirtieth," she said after some searching.

"Done," he said, writing it out carefully on a piece of parchment. "Do we send out invitations or is it just a very small gathering?"

"Immediate family only," she said. "We have it down by the lake."

"it's a plan then, my love," he said.

'Wonderful," she said, smiling brightly.

"Based on all of this, where does the rest of our future sit?" he questioned.

"In eleven months we shall have a son, thirteen later, a daughter," she said. After that the only thing she could see was him riding away from her, and then a black state after that.

"Why so quiet love?" he wondered in a hush.

"Oh, I'm just thinking," she replied gently.

"I see," he said. "About our wonderful future?"

"It's the only thing on my mind," she said softly.

It was true that the most vexing futures took up such a prominent amount of space in her mind compared to the others. And so all she saw was that moment replayed over and over in her mind, predicting something that, no matter how hard she tried to change it, shift it, fix it, was always there, making her head and heart ache. And he had no idea. And she would not tell him.

There was an obnoxious crack, and Bok and Opie appeared carrying two trays, one with steaming tea, and one with a plate of fluffy biscuits. She sighed gently and reached to take the steaming cup offered to her. She also took a biscuit and so did Sal. The two elves set the tray down on the bedside table before disappearing.

"Bliss," she murmured.

"Absolutely," he agreed, laughing and touching her cheek yet again. They were just happy and she wished to keep it that way as long as possible. They had at least a couple of years left for them. So she would cherish it while it was there. That she could do.

He looked down at Helga. She was sleeping again, and for that, Salazar was somewhat grateful. As much as he loved her desperately, he did not want her reading any tea leaves. Something in their future was dark and she knew it. He could see it on her face and in her eyes. HE didn't care to see her like that. Not at all. But he wanted to know what was wrong,- he wanted desperately to _change _it. Had she told herself she could stop it alone, or perhaps resigned herself to that fate? He desperately hoped not. He could help. He wanted to.

He sighed and slid gently away from her, hoping she could not feel it. He found his clothes and pulled them on, shaking his head. He headed out in the main part of the chamber and started to call.

"Aris, where are you?" he beckoned softy. The snake slithered carefully out of one of the corners, as Salazar was speaking to him in Parseltongue.

"Yes?" Aris replied, slithering right up to Salazar.

"Aris, have you ever had any problems with women?" Salazar wondered as Aris wound himself up around Sal's arm.

"If I had, Salazar, they would be fairly different from yours, I fear," Aris replied.

"Right," Salazar.

"From what I overheard, my old friend, out here, humbly in the corner, you know… well from what I heard, you do not seem to be having any women problems, Salazar," Aris informed him.

"You were listening?" Salazar murmured, sitting in one of the high-backed black chairs. "Eavesdropping?"

"If you don't mind my saying so, it wasn't as if you were keeping it a secret," Aris said tartly.

"Oh," Salazar said.

"What is your problem with her?" Aris wondered, looking up at Salazar's face from where he was wound around his arm. "You don't seem to have one, really."

"Oh no," Salazar said. "It's just… she's a seer. She sees the future, Aris. And she sees something that she will not share with me. We're getting married, you see. She sees our futures, which leads us to jump the gun on many things we know are, in essence, inevitable. But she sees something past the next two years she will not share with me."

"Something bad I'm assuming," Aris said. Strange as it was, he was a highly educated serpent. It came from knowing Salazar his entire life. From talking regularly with a highly educated individual, Aris acquired quite a bit of knowledge not common to most leg-less beings that roamed the earth.

"She wouldn't keep it from me if it was a good thing,' Salazar said.

"Are you sure?" Aris said. "There is always a possibility that there is a surprise she wants to do for you, right?"

"No," Salazar said. "She has a darkness in her eyes when she sees the future lately, and I'm sure that comes from nothing good."

"You have darkness in your eyes, too," Aris pointed out.

"But that is natural in me,' Salazar said. "In her, she is naturally light. Her eyes speak volumes to me, for they are sometimes the most expressive part of her."

Aris unwound slightly from Sal's arm and slithered so that he was resting on his shoulder. "Why, may I ask, are you out here with me, when you could be spending time with her? Perhaps she will enlighten you, Salazar, you never know. Even so, if there is darkness ahead of the two of you, do you really wish to spend those precious moments talking to a humble snake such as myself?"

Salazar laughed. "Thank you, Aris."

The snake detached himself from Salazar's arm and dropped to the ground, winding his way back into the corner of the room, disappearing behind a sofa.

Salazar sighed to himself and stood up. He headed back into his bedchamber and slid back into bed, pulling Helga close to him while she slept. She barely stirred, but repositioned herself, wrapping her arms around him unconsciously. He buried his nose in her hair and decided that Aris was probably correct. He ought to enjoy all of the peace with her that he could.

_**Author's Note: Please review. I love reviews. I think all author's love reviews. This is my first fic (despite the fact that I have more chapters for others, as this one has just been gathering dust in the back files of my computer) and I hope to not disappoint. **_


	14. Chapter 14

Godric smiled to himself as he looked at the list in front of him. It was full of names, eighty of them, to be exact. Eighty was better than none, and he knew that sincerely. He would have at least eighty students at his school come September. Recruiting was easy. The tales of Godric Gryffindor and his compatriots had flow briskly through the magical world. There was no preventing the success of the school.

It was nearly a week and a half since he and Rowena left Salazar and Helga alone back at the castle in Scotland. They had made a loop to the north, come down south, and then were heading north again to complete their circle of all of the well-known wizarding communities on the mass of land.

The next stop on the list that Godric had compiled of places to visit was not one he imagined Rowena would take kindly to. But her home had promise, and he knew that already. There was no reason from the not to stop there. They had addressed the awkward of his past already, and if they had to see hers, then so be it.

After the argument with his father, he had set off early to talk to all of his cousins and enlist some of their children for the school. Rowena didn't make another comment to him after that moment they shared by the fireplace in the parlor. They seemed to be in a silent acceptance that sometimes darkness of a person's past had to be left behind. Lord knew that hers had the same need.

The two of them were stopped for lunch in a secluded vacant meadow somewhere by the coast. She had a quaint bowl of soup in front of her. Godric was already finished, trying to create his own shade. The summer heat was constricting. He'd already shed his cloak and was wishing this moment for the black lake. Rowena was sitting in a pool of pale blue that was her dress, which puddle around her and made her a beautiful graceful image. When Godric turned around to look at her, she had vanished her bowl of soup and was sitting alone, staring contemplatively up at the brilliant sky.

It was an unusually warm summer. The sun shone in the sky as a bright buttercup ball with no end. It turned the sky so pale it was no longer blue, but a massive expanse of white, which streaked down on them, rising perspiration on their necks and brows.

"Perhaps we should get moving," Godric suggested, walking over to Rowena and sitting down next to her.

She shrugged gently, the shoulders of her dress falling off of her pale, bony shoulders. She'd had to loosen her dress as she was sweating and so hot.

"No?" he said. "All right." He laughed and rested his arms on his knees.

"I know where we're going," she informed him. "It's obviously the next stop."

"Oh," he said. "Well… we have to go, Ro." He'd taken to calling her Ro in the past week. He didn't know quite where it started or why, but it was.

She scrunched up her face. "I thought it would be easier to think about… I made the decision."

"It'll be all right," he assured her. "They won't remember anything."

"And sometimes I worry that that might be worse than having them miss me," she said. "But it, I guess, makes it easier to go back."

He nodded and leaned over to put a comforting arm around her shoulders. "It will be all right. I swear. Worst comes to worst, we lift all of their memory charms and start over."

She nodded. "All right. All right."

"We'll figure it out," he said. "Why don't we just go and get it over with? We have one more stop after that, and then we can go home."

She nodded. "Let's go." The two of them stood, and he grabbed his cloak and hers, offering it out. She slung it over her arm.

"Ready?" she said. "You know what it looks like, I'm sure."

"Yes," he said. "One, two, three."

They turned on the spot, and after a strange compressing sensation, that reappeared with a loud crack on the outskirts of the town she used to live in, several feet apart. She looked at the manor house that sat to her right and let out another loud sigh.

"How did you husband die?" he wondered as she tightened her dress and fluffed her hair. She tucked her cloak into the small bag with its undetectable extension, and looked up at him.

"As far as I know, he just died,' she informed him. "Some people will say I killed him. This is not true. I did nothing. I woke up with him dead beside me."

"Was he much older than you?" he questioned.

"Ten years, perhaps? A little less, I believe," she said. "Fairly young, in comparison to what I _could've _married, I suppose. He didn't have an heir, so I believe his cousin is in there now, taking the reigns. I doubt they would all take kindly to seeing me again."

"And you have no idea what happened to him?" Godric wondered.

"Personally, I believe he just died," Rowena said. 'It happens."

"That it does," Godric agreed as they continued walking in through the field that separated them from the rest of the village.

"I can't say I was exceedingly heartbroken or upset when he died… but of course, I wasn't exactly happy about it. It was sad. I didn't cry… but then again I don't cry," she rambled.

He laughed. "I understand, Rowena. You were upset, but it wasn't the end of the world for you."

Rowena took a deep breath before they entered the square. She knew no one would recognize her. She'd done well in her modifying of memories, and thus she was mostly an enigmatic stranger. Enigmatic, perhaps, was her word, but she liked to think that it fit.

The swished through the square, heading for the one house other than her own that Rowena knew had some magical blood within it. She knocked gently on the door with Godric standing next to her. The door was pulled back and a woman Rowena had known her entire life answered.

"Hello?" she said. "Can I help you?"

"Hello," Godric said, stepping forward. "I'm Godric Gryffindor, this is Rowena Ravenclaw. We came to talk to you about a school that we are starting."

"A school eh?" the woman said. "I don't have any money to send my kids to school, thank you, and I wouldn't send them to yours if I could. You wouldn't like them much. Not very normal, you see."

"Exactly why they would be perfect for our school," Godric said. 'See, our school is not for normal people, madam. It's for people that are the best sort of abnormal."

"Ravenclaw did you say? We have the daughter of a Ravenclaw in this village, not a relative of yours I think?" the woman said.

"We're really here to talk about the school," Godric pointed out. The woman glowered at him and put a hand on her hip.

"All right, all right, if you must, come on in," she said, stepping aside to let them pass. She waved them through with a dusting cloth.

The woman was not a serf by any means. Her home was relatively well-kept, and most certainly of higher quality than most serf houses Rowena had seen. It was more of a peasant home, she knew, and she knew the family fairly well, but her memory charm had done its job; the woman had no idea who Rowena was.

Her name was Evelyn, Rowena knew, a mother of four, Jonathon, Agatha, William and Diana. Evelyn and her husband, John Senior, were a witch and wizard, and of course, Rowena could then infer that their children were as well.

"So you're school then," Evelyn said. "Must be magic, right?"

"Yes," Rowena said. "Have you heard of Godric Gryffindor?"

"Aye," the woman replied. "Of course I have. Who hasn't heard of Godric Gryffindor, miss, that would be the better question."

Rowena shot one eyebrow up, and was surprised to see Godric blushing somewhat modestly.

"There are four of us starting this school," Godric informed her. "Our first term starts in September."

"And the four of you are?" Evelyn said, gesturing that they should have a seat in her sitting room. She dug into the pocket of her apron and withdrew a wand which she used to summon a tray with water in tumblers.

"The two of us, in addition to Salazar Slytherin and Helga HUfflepuff, do you know about them?" Godric questioned.

"Slytherin, yes… Lord's son, correct? And then Hufflepuff, she's a pretty well-known seer. My sister in England told me of the Welsh seer her sister in law met… yes, yes, Hufflepuff," Evelyn said. "Names travel quickly in the wizarding world, now don't they?"

"I suppose owls do help with that," Rowena agreed.

"True, true," Evelyn agreed. "So this school?"

"Depending on the strength of the abilities the children have to begin with and how old they are, they will spend somewhere between one and seven years boarding at our school several days travel by horse north of here," Godric said. "We will hone their skills and cater to their strengths, help with their weaknesses. The goal is to make them well-rounded individual. We will take boys and girls, as the wizarding world, is, according to Helga, ahead of the times in that sense. If you cannot afford the school's tuition, which I'm thinking you will find is more reasonable than you first guessed, something can be worked out."

She nodded carefully. "Let me call my husband and children in, shall I? John? Johnathon? Aggie? Diana? William? Get in here, please!"

John Senior appeared first, apparently home for a midday meal. Following him were the four somewhat bedraggled looking children, appearing in age order, with little William pulling up the rear.

"They're starting a school, John," Evelyn informed her husband. "For magic kids, you see. This is Godric Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor you say?" John said. "My God!" He held his hand out to shake Godric's.

"Do you all have wands?" Rowena asked the children. "How old are you all?"

"I'm nine!" William pointed out loudly. Rowena laughed.

"He's a bit young for us, yet," Rowena said.

"I'm fifteen," the young John pointed out. He drew his wand out of his pocket.

"And we're thirteen and eleven," Agatha said, speaking for herself and Diana.

"Excellent," Rowena said. "How about you show me what you can do, all three of you."

Godric looked down at Rowena from where he was speaking with Jonathon senior. She was laughing with the children, little William sitting on her lap. The older children were demonstrating their magical skills to her, and she was making her own additions to the fun with her wand. They seemed very taken with her, and as she was barely his senior, Jonathon in particular was in awe. He was enchanted by her beauty from the first moment he saw her.

He supposed that that was the greatest point of contention for the parents making their decisions. The oldest of them, Godric himself was barely twenty-one. The others followed him with Helga at nineteen and several months being the youngest of them. Rowena was twenty, as was Salazar. For the time, they were all relatively "old" and knew that their perspective ages could be filled with magical children already married off. He couldn't help but worry that the parents would not take them as seriously because of their youth. So far, the problem had been very nonexistent. It was their names that proceeded them and brought them into the bright light.

But watching Rowena… he couldn't help but smile as he saw her. She was so good with these children. He almost couldn't understand how he left her own daughter behind.

Rowena had her eyes set on the building in front of her. Walking swiftly, she didn't know what she was going to do. She had made the excuse of being in need of fresh air to get out of the house. She didn't know what her problem had been. Why had she done this? Why had she abandoned her daughter? Perhaps the circumstances had not been the most desirable… but it was her own child! If she could find it in herself to feel for children like those of Evelyn and Jonathon, then why had she been unable to find it in her to love her own daughter?

It was the darkness connected to it, she assumed. It was the concept of how the daughter had come to be—a marriage that was not love, but acceptance. Something she definitely wanted to leave behind. She had seen her wedding as a sunset on her life, leading into a dark inky night. When Godric had proposed his idea to her, she had jumped at it, excited. It was like she was allowed to leave it all behind. But did she truly want to?

She picked her pace up, her feet moving quickly across the dirt. She reached the door of the house in a matter of seconds, before she was hammering on it, almost to the point of angry impoliteness.

It was pulled back by Daphne, who was cradling Rowena's dark haired daughter in her arms.

"Can I help you?" Daphne said. Another memory charm that certainly had held quite well.

"Yes, I need to talk to you," Rowena replied.

Daphne shifted her weight from one foot to the other, a skeptical look on her face. "Well, who are you then?"

"Rowena Ravenclaw," Rowena replied, surprised at the nauseas feeling that crept into her stomach when she realized her own sister, whom she had grown up with her entire life, had no idea who she was.

"Ravenclaw?" Daphne said, eyebrows raising. "Interesting, so you're a cousin of mine, I'll assume. Right? One of my father's brother's children, right?"

Rowena sort of shook her head, but Daphne didn't quite see.

"Come on in," Daphne said, standing aside. She turned around, and Rowena drew her wand unthinkingly, pointed it at the back of her sister's head, and reversed her spell. Daphne turned around.

"I swear I just had the weirdest daydream… Rowena, take your daughter will you?" Daphne said, looking quite confused for a moment.

"Daphne," Rowena said, moving up to her sister and taking Helena out of her arms. "I need to tell you something."

"All right, all right," Daphne said, standing with her hands on her hips. "Let me hear it. What did you do this time, I can only wonder!"

"Daphne, for about a month now, you've been under the spell of a memory charm," Rowena said. "I've had you and the entire town convinced that Helena was your daughter, and that I never existed. In this month, I've been up north, planning a magic school with my peers."

Daphne laughed for a moment, then froze. "That was my daydream… Lord, Rowena, what are you doing to me?"

"I'll leave," Rowena said quickly. "I'll take her with me. I will… I won't… I don't need to come back. I'll fix everything. It will be like I never existed at all to them… to you, if you want. I can fix that. I've only ever been a burden to you, Daphne, and I know that, but… what do… I can't change it now. Unless you ask me too. One wave of my mind, and I've never existed. And nor has she."

Daphne contemplated for a moment. "I don't want to forget you. But I think you need to leave."

Rowena nodded her head gently, looking at her sister.

"You've never really belonged her, have you, Ro?" Daphne questioned.

"No," Rowena said. "I guess I haven't."


	15. Chapter 15

Helga and Salazar were waiting in the Great Hall with a banquet prepared by House-elves displayed in front of them. The return of Godric and Rowena was to occur in, according to Helga, a minute exactly.

The crack sounded right on the dot, and the two travelers appeared with a screaming baby in tow. Helga saw Salazar visibly cringe next to her. Strange how he would be completely different with their children.

"Who is that?" Salazar wondered.

"It's my daughter," Rowena said, smiling brightly. "This is Helena."

Helga frowned. She certainly hadn't seen that one coming. And that sort of worried her. The addition of a child to their everyday life would be an immense change.

"She needs bed, I fear," Rowena said. "I should take her up…"

"We have elves that could do that," Sal offered.

"Elves?" Godric said, startled.

"About a hundred," Helga said. "We needed someone to clean and cook all of the time. Let me call a couple, they'll take care of Helena."

She called the names of two mother elves, and they appeared.

"Please take Miss Ravenclaw's daughter up to bed in her room, please," Helga said. The elves bowed and took Helena, who was just the right size for them to carry, from a startled Rowena's arms. She seemed slightly overwhelmed, and Helga noted that Godric reached over and gently squeezed her hand in a comforting way.

"I'm a mother again, it would appear," Rowena said. "but this food looks wonderful. Let's eat, shall we?"

The four of them sat down at the massive head table.

"How many students are there going to be?" Salazar wondered as he broke off a turkey leg and bewitched a jug to pour them all massive tankards of ale and firewhiskey.

"Eighty-eight," Godric said. "Twenty-two for each of us to take in."

"Wonderful," Helga said, beaming. "I'm so excited."

"We have some news to break," Salazar said, looking sideways at her.

"Oh right," Helga said.

"Is it good news or bad news?" Rowena wondered. "I don't like bad news."

"It's good news," Salazar said. "Good news to us, so we hope it is for you as well.'  
"I'm sure it will be," Godric said, taking a hefty gulp of his ale. They all seemed to be in a drinking mood.

"We're getting married," Salazar announced. Rowena spluttered half a mouthful of firewhiskey down her front.

"Excuse me?" she gasped.

"I didn't even know you two were… together," Godric said. "Though I supposed we could have guessed it."

"It's only been for several weeks now," Helga said.

"Why the rush then?" Godric wondered. After a moment of no reply, he turned an accusatory glance on Salazar. "Salazar, what have you done? Is she with child?"

Helga gasped. "You impertinent… Godric!"

"No she's not!" Sal replied heatedly. "She is just amazing, and wonderful, and I love her, and we see that in the future we are together, and will not hesitate to get on with it."

"Well then congratulations," Rowena said swiftly, raising her tankard high and then tipping it back.

"To Helga and Salazar," Godric said, raising his tankard too. They all swung theirs high, smiling to themselves, and drank to the futures.

"A name!" Salazar roared, laughing brightly. Helga looked at him, giggles pouring out of her mouth like a waterfall. Rowena was cackling in a very manic way, and Godric was full of hiccups and chortles. They all seemed to have a very different way of dealing with the affects of alcohol on the brain. Helga became more of a child, giggling. Rowena was almost lunatic, while Godric seemed constantly short of breath. Salazar got very, very loud.

"A name, we need a name!" Godric agreed, hiccupping again, which induced another round of manic laughter from Rowena and giggles from Helga.

In the midst of her giggles, Helga suggested something that sounded similar to, "Bumble Wumble School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Godric, chortling, recommended, "Pig—_hic—_Master's School."  
"Pig!" Rowena said. "Pig, pig, pig, I like that! Pig! Pig something. Pig's school…"

"Pig… pig… sow… sow… Hog! Hog! I like that better!" Godric declared.

"Hog… Hog what?" Salazar demanded.

"Hog's Feet School!" Helga said.

"Hog… Hog Spots. Hog Pocks. Hog Warts. Hogwarts!" Rowena finally cheered.

"Hogwarts!" Godric said. "I love it! It's wonderful."

"Hogwarts!" Salazar said. 'I love it too."

"So we're Hogwarts?" Helga said. "Hogwarts. Hogwarts. Hoggy Warty Hogwarts!"

They all burst out laughing.

"We need a motto too though!" Helga pointed out. "You know… a saying…"

"Shush!" Salazar said. "I have one. I have one! Be quiet. My grandfather used to say this to me all of the time." He struck them with his most serious gaze. "_Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus__."_

The other three stared at him.

"Á sleeping dragon is never to be tickled," Salazar said gravely.

They all nodded in gentle agreement. Truer words were, perhaps, never spoken.

"Oh lord," she moaned, rolling onto her back.

'Helga?" Salazar said, touching her shoulder.

"My head is exploding," she cried, clutching at the top of it in distress.

"Hush, love," Salazar said, wrapping an arm gently around her middle and pulling her closer to him. "It's from the alcohol.'

They were in her chambers this morning, with the sunlight streaming in obnoxiously through the windows that were little more than small rectangles on the last foot of the wall. But that foot of sunlight was creating such distress to her headache that she wished she could fill it all in quickly. Salazar, noticing the problem, conjured black curtains out of the air, which fastened themselves in front of the windows, completely blocking out the rest of the light.

"Remind me never to do that again," Helga mumbled, curling up into a tight, miserable ball on his lap.

"I will do my best to stop you," he said. "But I am in the same position at this moment."

She closed her eyes, and buried her nose in his bare chest, breathing deeply. His perfect scent filled her nose, a mixture of the outdoors fresh air, clean and crisp trees, and lye soap. It was such a good smell, one she had come to love deeply.

"Do we have anything to do today?" she wondered. "I'd much rather just stay in bed… All day long."

"We can stay in bed if you wish," he said. "We'll feign illness. That's a good idea, yes."

He kissed her forehead and stretched back out, lying down with her in front of him, their legs twisted together.

"I love you," he told her, pushing her hair away from her face.

"And I love you," she replied, kissing him once on the lips.

Salazar stared up at the ceiling in Helga's chambers. The arched stone was smooth and perfect, like the slope of the shoulders of the young woman next to him, curled into his side, sleeping.

He was brooding. That was probably the best description for it. That was, at least, what his mother used to call it when he would get deep and thoughtful, quiet and focused. His face used to get a look about it, a shadow—again, according to his mother. It was obvious that he was lost in some deep thought—be it about something good or bad, an outsider could rarely tell.

He had his arms around her while he did this. It wasn't as if he wasn't happy—he was so happy just to be near her. But being near her brought a lot of thoughts, things that worried him. The impending problem that he saw constantly hidden in her face.

Sal supposed he probably got a bit of his reputation from the looks on his face. He never looked, according to most people, like he was enjoying any bit of what was going on around him. The truth was, though, he was just commonly sidetracked. Anything would come in his ear, and he would find a million things to think about it. The last thing on his mind would be the look that was crossing his face. He didn't care about that, which perhaps, made him look a little dark and brooding.

His reputation wasn't bad—it was quite admirable, in fact. Many people regarded him as one of the most talented wizards alive at the moment. But he seemed to always bring about that slight shadow of a doubt in all of them. It was his looks, he figured, the old hair and beard, which made him look more sinister than necessary. And then the expressions on his face. That had to bring some more of that. Finally he thought, it had to be the parseltongue.

Snakes always were seen as dark. It was an undeserved reputation, he always advocated. But the fact that he could talk to him brought that darkness on him as well. Salazar was very, very far away fro being any sort of bad, dark wizard. Dark magic was something he knew very little about indeed, save for how to combat it. But there were always whisperings.

He feared them. Salazar was afraid of very little, but the concept of earning himself a reputation as a dark wizard was one of those very few things that frightened him. He didn't want them to bring about harm to Helga, for one thing. Of course, there was his own name to think about, but hers was more important. He would much rather have the Slytherin name get dragged in the mud than have hers go down into the dirt. All of a sudden, his first priority was her and nothing else.

He wanted to know what she saw. As much as she hated to share, and he understood why, he wanted to what she saw happening. Clearly, it wasn't horrible enough to keep them apart now, to make her not want to be with him. He was glad for that, sincerely. But he didn't want any stake driven between them in the future.

He finally broke his gaze from the ceiling to look down at her. Despite the effects of the alcohol, she looked quite peaceful. Her hair was spilling away from her, getting longer by the day, and, he swore, even more beautiful. Her pale, sort of freckled face, had a bit of sleepy smile on it, pale pink petal lips parted gently. She was beautiful. She was his. That concept terrified him and amazed him at the same time. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

When he was younger, an adolescent with a mind of his own and extreme obdurateness, he had often imagined that he would end up alone. The thought had not worried him or distressed him the least back then. But now that he had Helga, the concept of being alone was overwhelmingly distressing. If he had known back then that someone like this existed out there for him, he would have never given anything about just taking off into the world, sort of in the country to see what he could see in the land, in nature, all alone.

But he had found Helga, and there was no reason to want to be alone, or to be anywhere but in her arms, constantly.

She was young, for a witch, and he was young for a wizard. They were young together, with a lot of things tumbling dangerously around in their heads. But he thought she grounded him and he her. No matter what the world did around them, how it spiraled and listed and tipped precariously to vanishing edges and endless abysses, they had each other. He tied her down, she tied him down. If he fell, she would stop him, or fall with him. It was the same in reverse. All of a sudden it happened, and there was no going back.

But what did that mean for the future, he wondered? Was that dark cloud he saw approaching ever going to disappear he dearly hoped it would?

_**Author's Note: *insert witty saying begging for reviews here* Thanks to all for reading, really! Stay tuned for more. I update sporadically depending on what I run into hunting through my files for other things... so soon for this one. Should be tomorrow or the next day for Chapter 17. Thank you all!**_


	16. Chapter 16

Helga was pregnant. The wedding was approaching. Then was the opening of the school.

Hogwarts was decked out in its finery. Banners draped the walls, bearing the name that they had, somehow, decided to keep—Helga had a feeling it was because that night when they were drunk, Rowena had carved the name of the school, and the motto, into the stone above the massive front door and topped it with one of her speciality charms that assured the stone could never be altered or vanished. And thus Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was named such for the next thousand plus years.

But yes, everything was going very well according to Helga's schedule. She ended up pregnant a month before the wedding, just as she assumed she would. Only she and Salazar knew, and that was okay with her for now. The others could do the arithmetic later when the child came a month "early." She did not look pregnant at all, which was nice. She always thought it would be very noticeable on her slight frame.

Godric and Rowena were at a standstill. He would reach over and brush her hair away from her face,stroke her cheek, take her hand, and she wouldn't protest. She would do similar things to him. But they would not kiss or embrace, and Helga never really grasped why. She had an idea though, and that idea was in the form of a rapidly growing child, Helena Ravenclaw.

The beautiful baby was quite attached to all four of the founders, but while she seemed to view Rowena and Godric as her parents—which was certainly a good thing—she found much more amusement in Salazar, who was shockingly good with children, despite his supposed dislike for them.

Salazar and Helga stood side by side out on the grounds by the front of the school, awaiting the arrival of their close family. Salazar's father, mother and grandfather were coming, and Helga's parents and sister with her husband.

They both were well aware that this was not a conventional wedding. They had been living together for several months now, and that was already out of tradition. Sharing a bed was another thing that they were doing that perhaps wouldn't be generally admired. In many places, Helga knew, a bride barely knew her husband before walking down the aisle to marry him.

Nothing, she allowed, had ever been conventional in her world.

That was why she was not embarrassed to be seen in front of parents with her betrothed's arm around her waist, holding her quite close before they were married. Her parents were not normal, and she knew full well, even without having met them, that Salazar's weren't either.

With a crack, the Hufflepuff's were the first to appear. The four of them appeared, and instantly, Helga's light-haired older sister darted forward to hug her. The family seemed to only somewhat share the family's passion for the color yellow. There were just a few hints of it on their clothes, while Helga was draped in her favorite sunbeam and buttercup colored dress, her hair in a loose twist.

"How wonderful!" her sister cheered. "Oh Helga! I haven't seen you in so long!"

"I know!' Helga said, hugging her back tightly, before breaking apart. "Elise, Mother, Father, and of course, Robert, this is Salazar. Sal, my family! Robert and Elise Harrington, and Timothy and Caliope Hufflepuff."

While the brother-in-law and father merely shook his hand, Elise and Caliope insisted upon giving Salazar a tight hug each. He laughed, surprised, but hugged them both back.

"Well he certainly is dashing," Caliope offered.

"I'll be having a talk with you son," Timothy added, in what Helga realized was his attempt to be threatening, and of course, as he was her father, failing.

With another crack, the three arriving Slytherins appeared. Sal looked very much like his father, especially now that his hair was short. His mother was, in Helga's eyes, very similar to Rowena: she was very tall, with dark spilling hair, and a pale, bony face, and of course, excessively beautiful. And then there was the grandfather, bent with age, with a long beard of white hair and a completely bald head. And a massive smile.

"Salazar!" his mother said, kissing him quickly on the cheeks.  
"Mother," Sal replied. "Father, Grandfather… this is my wonderful, beautiful, Helga, and her family. Helga, Lords Gregory and Henry and Lady Ursula Slytherin."

Ursula gave Helga a tight hug and a beautiful smile.

"So you are the one who fills Salazar's words with so much joy," she said sweetly, smiling. "Of course you are. Well, so you know, he loves you very much dear."

Salazar smiled too. "Mother… Helga, love, let's go introduce them to the other pair."

"The other pair?" Henry, his father, echoed.

"Godric," Salazar said. "And Rowena. But I do believe Godric sums it up quite well."

Grandfather Gregory laughed loudly. "Godric is the best explanation for anything that is going strangely, flamboyantly, or ostentatiously. There is usually a Gryffindor behind such matters. A least a young one. His Grandfather was slightly better behaved than he is, I must say."

At that, Helga of course had to laugh. There was so much truth spoken in that sentence. And it was nice to see that her future in-laws were as warm and kind as her future husband. It wasn't as if she had doubted, of course. He had to get it from somewhere. His sort of good-naturedness didn't just materialize out of thing air. No matter how amazing it was to her.

"Now this Ravenclaw," Calliope Hufflepuff said. "Who is she?"

"She is the most tenacious, most brilliant witch I do believe I have ever met," Helga said. "Be warned, her personality takes some getting used to. But once you understand her better, you see that the pompous attitude is well-meaning and slightly intentional. In a good way. If that makes any sense."

"It made absolutely no sense, love," Salazar said.

While the rest of the families spoke to each other, met Godric and Rowena if they hadn't already, and told the latter how beautiful her daughter was, Timothy Hufflepuff grabbed Salazar by the arm and led him back into the hallway.

"It's very nice to meet you, Salazar," Timothy told him. "My daughter, of course, sends us letters filled with the most high praise for you. She obviously loves you very much, and I'm glad she has found someone like you to spend the rest of her life with. However—"

"I'm sorry we did not do this traditionally, sir," Salazar interrupted. "I want you to know that. Of course in a normal world, in a normal relationship, I suppose, I would have met you long before I asked your daughter for her hand. In fact, I would've asked you for it first…"

"But Helga has never lived in a normal world, nor has she ever been quite normal herself. A normal relationship is such a relative term. I imagine the relationship you have with her is quite normal for her, quite normal for you," Timothy said. "I have no hard feelings that you didn't ask me. You know just as well as I do what Helga's mind is capable of. I'm certain she's combed heartily through the future to be entirely sure of the two of you."

"Oh," Salazar said. "Right… Yes."

"I would just like to remind you that just because what Helga sees in the future is perfect, does not mean you can mess around and that all will still be well. You make a mistake, and the future changes abruptly," Timothy reminded him. 'So I expect you to take the utmost care of her, for the rest of your life, no matter what happens with this school, with the four of you, the two of you, and all of your children."

"I promise," Salazar assured him. "I can't imagine not taking care of her. I love her very much, sir, she is a wonderful, wonderful girl, and I thank you for her."

"Do not thank me," Timothy said, shaking his head. "She entirely her own person. She has always looked into the future, tested her options, and took the ones that would get her precisely to the place she wanted to be—not where others wanted her to be. She is the person she is completely on her own accord."

Salazar nodded. "Well, either way, she is wonderful."

He laughed gently. "Now, she's going to think that I'm interrogating you if I don't head back into the hall with you soon."

Salazar laughed, and Timothy clapped him on the shoulder and led him back into the Great Hall where the others were still catching up and having a good time.

"It's a beautiful school," Salazar heard his mother say. "Let me guess though, Salazar has carved himself a cave in the basement?"

"It's not so much a cave," Helga replied. "As it is a relatively comfortable, much cooler room than the rest of ours."

"Relatively comfortable?" Sal said, walking up to her and kissing her gently on the cheek.

"Well, it's not my chamber, that's for sure," Helga said, teasing.

"It appears we're going to have to rotate around between or chambers once we're married," Salazar said, laughing a little.

Godric grinned. "I think I'm going to spend a lot of time in my tower." None of the parents seemed to hear him, but Rowena gave him a reproving look that sort of shrunk his smile considerably, but it was still there. She was good for him, Sal decided. She was capable of keeping him in check, unlike anyone else.

"Come on," Helga said. "We'll show you around the school, if you'd like to see it."

"That sounds wonderful," her mother replied, taking her daughter by the arm. Salazar 's mother took his arm and smiled up at him. Even as tall as she was, he was still slightly taller.

"She is wonderful," Ursula informed him gently in a whisper.

He smiled. "I know she is."

"You are very lucky to have found her," she said. "She almost seems opposite of you when you first meet her, and then… well she's very clearly not your opposite at all. You are very alike in how you think and act, despite her bubbliness and your… brooding."

Salazar laughed. "I love her very much, mother."

"I'm glad," she said. "You must have an amazing future with her."

"We do," he said. "We truly do."

He looked ahead up the line, where Helga was laughing with her father and mother. She threw her head back and looked up at the ceiling, the chink of sunlight illuminating her face. He couldn't help but smile.

"And she's beautiful too," his mother said. "It's a winning situation all the way around, now isn't it?"

"Yes it is," Salazar said, nodding gently. "I'm very, very lucky."

His grandfather tottered up beside him, smiling from ear to ear too.

"She's a sweetie, now isn't she?" he said. "Very, very much like you, though I feel bad that you're going to try to live with her deep under the ground."

"Oh come now, I'll treat her well," Salazar said.

"Never said you wouldn't,' Grandfather said. "But I know from experience that most women don't like living under a lake.'

"She's not like that,' Salazar said. "She sees past the strange and accepts what's really there. And that is a good thing, as our relationship has a very thick layer of strange over the top of it."

"Have you talked to your snake friends in front of her, that might be a point of contention," his grandfather teased. "You do sound like you are dying when you make those noises, believe me. I know from experience."

"You sound exactly the same as I do, Grandfather, "Salazar said. "It's not as if it changes from one person to the next."

His grandfather shook his head. "How much strange can one girl take?"

'She's not all that normal herself," Salazar pointed out.

_**Author's Note: Okay, so I promised an update sooner than this... believe it or not, I forgot. Whoops... Well I'll be speedier this time. Maybe even this afternoon I'll post seventeen... Let me know what you think! Review! Oh and I have a question for reviewers: Which pair do you like better? Godric and Rowena or Helga and Sal? Let me know! (As if i can't guess...)**_


	17. Chapter 17

**_A/N- ACK! Bad author, bad author... I didn't publish when I said I would. Sorry! I try to keep ahead of myself... but it doesn't work. _**

Just as Helga anticipated, her wedding day dawned bright and sunny, with just the right amount of cloud cover to satisfy Salazar. It was clearly the most perfect day for this. She flung her legs over the side of the bed, calling for her house-elf to run her a hot bath. She needed to look absolutely perfect.

There was a knock on the door as Helga brushed out her hair. She was decently dressed, covered completely.

"Come in," she said. Elise walked through the door smiling brightly, also dressed in her dressing gown, with her hair tightly braided in a plait down her back.

"Hello," Elise sang. "Would you like some help getting ready?"

"Oh why not?" Helga said. "I'm going to have a bath, but then I'm going to need some assistance getting into my dress.

"Can I see it?" her sister wondered, leaning forward eagerly on the balls of her feet.

Helga lifted her wand and flicked it in the direction of her wardrobe. It opened and out came her wedding dress. It was a long concoction of ivory silk and lace, with a square collar and sleeves with long slits in them. It was very young and sort of modern, for the times, but extremely beautiful.

"It's gorgeous," Elise awarded. "Absolutely beautiful. I'm sure it looks amazing on you Helga."

"Thank you," Helga said, sending it flying back into her wardrobe. She smiled gently and got up to head into her bathroom. "I'll call you when I'm finished with my bath, Elise."

"All right," Elise said, smiling brightly and walking back out.

Helga took a warm bath, scrubbing her body and hair completely clean. When she got out, Elise was waiting for her in her chamber, smoothing the dress out gently.

"Over the head, I think," Elise said, lifting the dress up and dropping it over Helga's head so that the silk clung to her gently and framed her form. It hung off her shoulders, revealing her prominent collarbone and her pale upper chest. Elise tied and hooked it behind her so that the dress fell perfectly. Helga smiled and looked at herself in her mirror. She looked like a bride, with the lace falling gently in just the right places, bright against even her pale skin.

"What do you want to do with your hair, Helga?" Elise wondered, sitting her down in front of the vanity mirror. She pulled Helga's hair behind her head. "Do you remember when we were younger and we used to experiment with each other's hair, to the point where they would get in such horrible knots… but when you were thirteen we finally perfected that mass of loops at the nape of your neck. How about that?"

"Yes," Helga said. "I think that will work if you don't mind doing that, Elise."

"Not at all," Elise said, taking her bone comb and brush and conjuring a bunch of pins out of the air.

"Mother told me to give these to you," she said. "They're diamonds and silver. They'll stand out beautifull from your hair.'

Helga held very still for what felt like a very short amount of time. It wasn't very hard for her, as her older sister pulled her hands through her hair and pinned it up gently.

"So you're getting married," Elise said. "Would you like some wedding night tips?"

Helga wasn't quite sure how to respond to that without informing her sister that she wasn't quite a virgin child any longer. "Oh, I'm sure we'll get along fine."

"You say that now, but you might be surprised," Elise replied. "The first time is not really the most enjoyable."

Helga really wanted to argue. She had had no problem enjoying herself. The first time, or the several—many—times after that.

"You're very quiet," Elise commented, smoothing a lock of hair. "Am I embarrassing you?"

Helga shook her head gently, careful not to jostle her sister's work.

"Well, dear, just remember, don't scare yourself .That will just make it horrible. Let him take the reins. He'll figure it out, unless he already is experienced, in which case, I _highly_ suggest letting him take the reins. Do you know if he's experienced?"

Helga shrugged delicately.

"Oh, all right then," she said. "Well let's just assume you're two virgins, shall we?"

"Sounds like a wonderful plan," Helga said, blush creeping into her cheeks, bright red and very obvious.

"Well you see that there is Mother's Irish blood coming out in you!" Elise said, pointing at the blush. "But my it does look better on you than it does on me."

Thankful for the change of subject, Helga laughed.

"You're awfully quiet," Elise pointed out again. "Wedding day nerves, I'll bet."

"Yes," Helga said, smiling brightly. That was it.

"Well how do you _see _the wedding night going?" Elise wondered.

Back on the subject. Helga cringed, but changed her face quickly.

"I see it going…" she closed her eyes for a moment. "Absolutely wonderfully."

Elise let out a slight, "humph" and said, "Well lucky you."

Helga laughed a little and her sister continued to do her hair. Calliope joined them after a moment and assisted in pinned the strands of hair where they needed to go.

"I can't believe you're getting married," Calliope said, starting to sound teary, as Helga had known she would.

"I know, Mother," Helga said. "I know, you cannot believe that I'm all grown up. I understand. It's a big change, but it will be okay. I am doing fine, and I will be even better with Salazar, as I love him so much. He's very good for me, Mother, and he won't let me get hurt, don't worry."  
"I trust you, and I suppose I trust him," she said. "I've seen the way he looks at you, Helga."

"And?" she prompted.

"And he loves you very, very much."

Salazar hadn't suspected that he would be nervous or nauseas or any combination of the two. But he was quite nervous and quite nauseas. Godric was standing next to him, ready to move quickly out of the way if Salazar's stomach did what it seemed to want to do and he vomited all over the floor of his chambers.

He had allowed Rowena to trim his hair up once more, to make it very presentable. Then Rowena had headed off to join Helga in her preparation. Over the past couple of months, the two women had gotten very close, and it was nice to see that.

Salazar's parents and grandfather were standing in the room, watching him, clearly trying to read his mood, to see if he was going to vomit like he seemed to be very near to doing. After a moment or two of looking at the floor, he cleared his throat and smiled. "I'm ready."

"Of course you're ready," Godric said, clapping him on the shoulder.

In silence, the party of five headed upstairs and through the massive oak front doors, out onto the lawn. A simple white tent was set up by the lake, it's white cloth top bright in the sunlight. It was a good day, Sal decided, sunny, but not unbearably so, not obnoxiously hot.

He smiled to himself, heading down to stand at the front of the tent, next to the priest that was going to be marrying him and Helga. Godric stood behind him, acting as his brother, and best man for the ceremony. His family sat on the in a group of comfortable wooden chairs with padded seats. It wasn't very long until the Hufflepuff family joined them, sitting on the left side, Robert with Calliope holding the baby, Helena. Rowena, clad in a rich blue dress, seated herself at a beautiful harp and began to play gentle music. Elise drifted down the aisle, dressed in a pristine pale green dress. She stood opposite Salazar at the altar, and they turned to watch Helga approach.

Her arm was linked in her father's. the two of them walked down the aisle. Salazar was… in a word, speechless. Sometimes he was quiet, but he was never speechless, he usually had something to say, no matter if he kept it to himself. But words could not describe her. Beautiful, perhaps, could be one attempt, but she was far beyond beautiful at that moment—she usually was. It seemed wrong to give her such a boring, regular word such as beautiful to describe her. She was worth so much more than that. She was much more than beautiful.

Her father pressed her hand into Salazar's stepping aside to sit down. Helga smiled at Salazar, a bright, wonderful smile.

"Good morning,, love," he said gently.

"Good morning," she said.

The priest took them carefully through the ceremony, but Salazar barely heard the words he was saying. All his mind registered was the beyond beautiful woman in front of him, with her hands clasped tightly in his, looking up into his eyes. It took him a moment to realize that she had tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he whispered at a pause.

"Nothing," she replied. "Everything is absolutely perfect."

He reached out and wiped the tears away from her eyes with his finger. She seemed in awe, as if she hadn't even realized that she was crying until he brushed away the tears.

"By the power vested in my by the lord our god, heavenly father, I declare thee to be husband and wife. Please embrace your bride," the minister commanded, smiling brightly. Salazar brushed his lips over both of Helga's cheeks, kissing away the final dampness from her tears… until however he kissed her on the lips and it seemed that more tears began to fall.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he replied, hugging her close to him.

She laughed gently and brushed away her tears before linking her hand tightly in his. The two of them, now officially husband and wife, began the processional toward the castle.

Helga sat in front of the mirror in her chambers, brushing her hair gently. She was wearing a long and thin silk nightdress. Salazar was watching from behind, where he sat on her bed, patiently awaiting. He knew she would get up eventually and walk over to him and start kissing him. That was the way Helga was. She always decided when.

"I love you," he informed her from where he was, sitting in nothing but his pants.

She smiled at him in the mirror. "You know I love you too."

"And how is our son, I might ask?" he wondered.

She laughed and put a hand on her stomach, swiveling around on the small chair on which she sat.

"He's very good, I'm sure," she said. "Happy, just like me. So I'm a Slytherin now, eh?"

"Whatever you choose, love," he said, flopping onto her feather bed on his back.

"I feel it would get too confusing for our poor students if we took them into Slytherin and Slytherin. But at heart, you know I am a Slytherin. I belong with you. To you."

"You, darling, belong to no one," he said. "I don't think anyone could own you if they tried."

"But you see," she said. "I'm giving myself to you, and I am okay with that. Accept it. I'm yours, Salazar."

She walked over and climbed up onto her bed, pulling him back into a sitting position. He smiled at her as she climbed into his lap. "And I'm yours, Helga. I always will be." She smiled back at him and pressed her lips into his neck. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, falling onto his back so that she was lying across his chest.

She laughed. "Goodness, Salazar."

"It is our wedding night after all," he said. "We ought to make the most of it, correct."

"I suppose you're right,' she agreed, smiling brightly.

"You suppose?" he repeated, sounding disgusted—but he was teasing, she knew. "You _suppose.'_


	18. Chapter 18

**_A/N: The story is back from the dead... Sorry to everyone that likes it. I'm better at updating. In fact, I update my primary focus fic every other day... yeah. So I'm not horrible at heart. _**

Chapter 18:

Rowena double checked each dormitory, making sure it was absolutely spotless. On the door to the tower, she had bewitched the knocker to ask tricky questions to anyone who attempted to answer. She had decided exactly what she wanted in her students: she wanted brains. She teased Godric, with the words "Brains over brawn! Brains over brawn!" He valued bravery and chivalry, a classic knight. Helga was looking for people who she said were "Real." Rowena had no idea what that meant. Salazar, on the other hand was almost looking for a Gryffindor/Ravenclaw combo. He wanted the bravery to be from the mind, not from the body. His word was "cunning." Rowena supposed it fit quite well.

The students were arriving in an hour. As it was the first year of this wonderful school, a large process had to be gone through. Upon entering the school, the students would fill out a ten question survey, which would determine which house they were best suited for once they were looked over by the founders. Then, after the midday meal, the approximately twenty-two students in each "house" would be taken to a classroom and asked to demonstrate their magic ability in order to place them in a year. It was complicated, but it was the best way to do it for this first time.

A baby cry caused Rowena to jump into the air. She cursed under her breath and massaged her temples. She was certainly remembering why she had left her daughter with her sister. She was obligated and all, but it was not exactly her favorite thing in the world—being a mother to a child that she hadn't wanted.

"Hetta?" Rowena said, calling her House-elf to take care of her daughter.

"Yes Miss," the elf said, vanishing with a crack.

She walked down the stairs to find Godric sitting in the common room, looking out one of the long windows.

"Hello," she said, sitting down in a chair next to him. "So you got in through the knocker?"

"Yes," he said. "A particularly cheesy question, mind you."

She laughed. "Well I'm sorry. I doubt your young Gryffindor children would be able to answer it. You see, I believe I have a new motto."

"Oh?" he said. "And what might I ask is that?"

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," she said happily.

He laughed. "How long did it take you to come up with that one, Ro?"

She shrugged. "You'll never know."

"It's very clever," he assured her.

"I'm glad you think so," she said, reaching over and squeezing his hand. He pulled her hand so that she was standing and then he pulled her so that she was sitting on his lap.

"Godric!" she said, laughing, surprised.

"Haven't we waiting long enough?" he wondered. "Do you feel nothing for me, Ro?"

"I feel everything for you," she whispered, touching the top of his head with her fingertips. "But I'm scared to admit it."

He sighed. "I know you are. It's because we both have an incredible amount of flaws, and thus it is hard to combine them together—and frightening at that."

He put his arms around her and kissed her carefully on the cheek. She smiled and kissed him back on his cheek, before kissing his lips gently. He took her face in his hands and kissed her back, brushing his nose against hers.

Rowena sighed. She couldn't believe she was letting this happen. Godric was pompous, he was presumptuous. And yet… She couldn't help herself. She'd found him attractive the first time she saw him. There was no going back at this point. She just found him quite… a two-sided person. In a good way. One side was absolutely perfect for her.

He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and put a hand on the back of her head, pulling her in , if possible, closer, his hands on her lower back.

"For a mother, you are exceedingly beautiful," he said.

"What is that supposed to me?" she demanded, laughing loudly.

"It means you do not look at all like a mother," he said.

"I take that as a compliment," she said, laughing and kissing him on the lips one more, laughing.

The four of them stood at the door as one by one the students arrived. Most of them came by apparating, being towed along by their parents or going on their own accord. They set their trunks and baggage down and one of the founders sent it into the room where all of the trunks were headed. Parents reintroduced themselves, though Rowena was fairly certain she would not be able to remember any of their names after a few minutes—smart as she was, she never had a memory for names and faces.

Finally, the four founders headed to their head table, everyone of the eighty-eight students they had enlisted checked in and ready. They were spread out across the hall, already seeming to group by age. Some of them seemed nervous, and were sitting, watching the table or their hands, quite silent. Others were overly excited, jabbering their mouths off to anyone who would listen to them. Rowena couldn't help but smile. She was proud of this. Salazar, even the supposed one who didn't like children seemed heartily happy to see all of them in front of him.

"This is amazing," Rowena breathed, looking to the side at Godric. He was beaming, positively overjoyed at what he was seeing.

"Should I speak to them now?" he wondered, rising from his chair. The other three followed his lead, standing before their students.

Godric pointed his wand at his throat before speaking, "Welcome, everyone, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We are so pleased to see all of you in front of us today. We are in for a wonderful year together. Before we get started with the year, I would like to introduce myself, and my colleagues, who will be your teachers this coming year.

"I am Godric Gryffindor. I am English by birth, a lord, but that is a technicality. I am the dueling champion of this great Island for the past four years. This year, I will be teaching you the subjects of Defense, and Ancient Ruins and History of Magic. I value bravery in all of my student, though not always in its most prominent form."

Helga stepped up and pointed at her throat. "I am Helga Hufflepuff, Welsh, technically. I am a Seer, specializing in Divination and Astronomy, as well as potion-making which I will be teaching you this year. In each of my students, I hope to see utter kindness, loyalty, and truth."

Rowena took the lead after that. "I am Rowena Ravenclaw, of Scotland. I focus mostly on charms and transfiguration, as well as Arithmancy, and I will be teaching those three subjects to you this year. In the students in my house, I hope to see a keen intelligence and thirst for learning."

"And I am Salazar Slytherin, also from England, like Godric, and I too was a lord. My area of expertise lies in the realm of magical creatures, and herbology and flying, which will be what I focus on with you this year. I speak Parseltongue, as well. In my students I value shrewdness and cunning, individuality."

"In order to determine the house best suited for you," Helga said. "We ask that you fill out a survey which will now appear in front of you. When your survey is complete, please, gently tap it once with the tip of your wand. Begin."

The four of them sat back down, and smiled at each other. The questions asked everything from age to favorite hobby, to their choice of color and if they had any pets. Among the questions not asked was one requiring a declaration of blood status. It wasn't long until pieces of parchment were flying through the air in the direction of the head table and stacking themselves into one alphabetized pile.

"All right," Salazar said when they were all finished. "Before we eat and sort you, we need to go over basic ground rules. Other rules will be explained this evening in your common room. For now, please note, the forest on the edge of the grounds is forbidden, as the risks are too great to take chances on what lies within its depths. In addition, swimming in the black lake will not permitted unless voiced expressly by one of us four. Finally, though you will be divided, we are one school. There will be no competition between houses and no favoritism. You take classes together and share meals together. You make friends together. We hope to have this school be one made up of many, and we ask that you respect this. The four of us are great friends and anticipate that you will become the same amongst yourselves. Now, we will sort you while you eat and let you know where you fall after the meal. Enjoy."

Rowena smiled at her three friends and they each took the first paper off of the pile: Abernathy, Jacob.

"Oh look, Sal, he had a pet Grindylow," Godric said, laughing.

"That's more bravery than it is an interest in creatures!" Sal said, laughing.

They sorted the various sheets into four separate piles, until everything was almost completely even. Each student seemed to have a place in which he or she fit perfectly.

Smiling to herself, Rowena stood finally to list the names off of the students who would follow her to the Ravenclaw tower that evening.

As she listed their names, she saw the faces of the children she called light up—by reading them, she was calling them intelligent. Perhaps this flattered them, perhaps they were relieved to have found a place, or perhaps they were glad to have their name read sooner rather than later to avoid the waiting.

The students followed her through the castle. She pointed out the different hallways and the quirks of the staircases which shifted in their strange directions. She took them up until they reached her tower.

"In order to provide some security, there are passwords to the other dormitories. Here, though, this door knocker will ask you a trivia question in order to let you in. I, however, can get in without answering, though it should be fairly easy." She flicked her wand gently, and the door clicked open, allowing her to lead in her twenty students.

"Welcome to the Ravenclaw common room," she said, gesturing around her. "If you all could please have a seat, I would like to go over a few things with all of you."

They all sat, very silent, in different chairs around the room.

"Tomorrow morning you will be tested on your abilities, in order to place you in a year," she informed them. "Before then, I would like you to room based on your ages. We have eleven to seventeen-year-olds here, and I would hope that you would choose rooms accordingly. Before the night is out, please make a list of the names of the people in each room, their ages, and leave it outside of the door.

"You all must be back here every night by the time the curfew bell rings. It should be two hours after the end of dinner. Budget your time wisely. There will be no nighttime wandering around the school. Dueling in the hallways is forbidden. There will be homework and its completion is expected. Your schedules will be distributed to you after you are placed in a year.

"I hope that as a house we will have a great bond, but also as a school. I cannot express enough the importance of being one in our school," she said. "It is what the four of us desperately strive for, and house enmity will not be tolerated. This is going to be a great year if we make it so. It is up to you what you experience while at Hogwarts. You will make it into what you want it to be."


End file.
